


Crush

by MissMelysse



Series: CrushVerse [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Crushes, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Pre-Het, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 182,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4528308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMelysse/pseuds/MissMelysse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoe Harris: teenager, music student, 'fleet brat. For most of her life she's either been at home with her Gran, or dragged along with her celebrity-musician father, but then her mother is posted to the ENTERPRISE, and her life changes. Lt. Commander Data: decorated officer, third in command of Starfleet's flagship, emotionless (or is he?) android. What happens when the two of them meet, find a connection, and form a friendship? Is this a fledgling romance, or are Zoe's feelings just (as she claims) a crush? </p>
<p>Please note: This is a close-canon AU. I bend canon more than I break it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> This story begins a few days before the stardate referenced in "The Offspring," but Zoe never actually meets Lal, nor does she have any real contact with Data until after Lal has already been permanently deactivated. (Originally written in 2008 and posted to ffnet where it's complete, and part of an epic series. I'm updating it as I post it, to add/tweak dates, fix missed typos, and correct internal continuity errors.) 
> 
> I'm hesitant to even post it here, because it's a slow burn from friendship to more, and because most of the work on AO3 seems to want edgier relationships. (I like reading them, too, but this is the story that happened when I sat down to play in the TNG sandbox). For the record, nothing happens before Zoe is over the age of consent in her world.

**_Disclaimer:_ Star Trek: The Next Generation, the U.S.S. ** _**Enterprise** _ **, Lt. Commander Data, and anything else recognizable belong to Paramount/CBS. Zoe and her mother belong to me. This begins in mid-season three (around the time of "The Offspring," but Zoe never meets Lal.**

**Meetings**

**Stardate 43651.42**

**(Friday, 26 August, 2366, 18:30 hours, ship's time)**

"Ask him." My mother leaned back in her chair, cradling her coffee mug between both hands and just watched me. She wouldn't speak again until I had. I think it was a negotiation tactic she learned at Starfleet Academy. Or maybe it was just parental thing. Either way, I knew I'd cave before she did.

I returned her gaze, noting that I was beginning to look a lot more like her than I had when I was younger. We both had chestnut hair, though hers was in a neat braid, and mine was in a lazy ponytail, dark eyes, and thick eyebrows. Mine had a sort of…quirk…in the middle making them more angled than arched, but we also both had heart-shaped faces.

We were sitting at a table in the Ten-Forward lounge aboard the _Enterprise._ My father had disappeared again, this time to conduct the Capital City Orchestra on an extended tour. He – and the orchestra – were based on my homeworld of Centaurus, but his tendency to wander had been a constant part of my life. As a small child, I'd been dragged along with him on his various gigs – some longer than others – and often stuck on stage when they needed a kid.

As I'd gotten older, and showing up to school had become a requirement, I'd been foisted off on my paternal grandmother, a social activist and folk singer of some notoriety – music ran in our family – who had since retired to her family's farm about half an hour's flitter ride away from the beachfront house that was technically home.

I'd been involved in the local arts community as both a musician and actor for practically my entire life, but things had started to spiral out of control when I reached high school and started paying attention to my father's behavior. Philandering wasn't really the worst of it, but coming home from school on the day before our winter break, the day before my mother was due to arrive home from space, and finding him _in flagrante delicto_ with our au pair had been the last straw. In an attempt to punish him, I went to a bonfire on the beach that was hosted by a bunch of older kids, got really drunk and almost hooked up with one of my best male friends – he stopped things before we went too far.

I finished out the year at home on Centaurus, at which point my mother decided to avail herself of one of the selling points of being on Starfleet's flagship: families were allowed to travel with officers.

I'd been brought to the ship to experience enforced mother-daughter bonding, and to make sure I finished high school with the grades and accelerated classes my mother expected me to have. I suspected she also wanted to show me that Starfleet was an option I should consider, but that was never going to happen.

"Ask him," my mother repeated.

I'd spent the last two weeks doing batteries of placement tests because my guidance counselor from home had stuck a note in my file stating I wasn't living up to my full potential. Ms. Phelps, the high school administrator on the ship, concurred, and wanted me to be part of some accelerated math tutorial thing, and we were discussing it over dinner in the lounge because Mom assumed (rightfully so) that I was unlikely to pitch a fit in front of people.

"Isn't that sort of your job?" I asked her. "You know, arranging my education, and all?"

"If it was really a question of arranging, then yes, it would be," my mother answered in her best rational voice, the one she used when she was being more Lt. Harris than Mom. "But Zoe," she continued, "Ms. Phelps has already stated that Commander Data has offered his tutorial services to any student who asks, and I'm concerned that you're avoiding interaction with the officers and crew." She took a sip of her coffee, and went on, the way parents can when they have you trapped. "I know you're not thrilled about being here, but if you'd come out of your shell and stop being so moody and dark and shy, you'd find that everyone on this ship has something pretty interesting to offer. Most fifteen-year-olds don't get the opportunity to have their math classes taught by ranking officers."

"I'm not shy," I protested, focusing on that part of my mother's mini-lecture. "I'm just very selective about who I talk to." I sought refuge in a bite of chocolate mousse. "And anyway, I'm pretty sure Ms. Phelps made a mistake. I'm abysmal at math."

"Abysmal?" The corner of my mother's mouth quirked up in a slight smile. "Surely you're a little better than that. Your test scores have always been excellent."

I shrugged. "Maybe I just test well. Mom, I hate math. The last thing I want is a teacher who's literally made of it."

Her smile grew broader. "You do have a way with words, kidlet." She took another sip from her mug, then set it down on the table, and placed her hands palm-down on either side of it. She wasn't intentionally showing off her perfect manicure, but I couldn't help noticing, and thinking about how ugly my own fingers looked. Playing cello was not conducive to long, pretty fingernails.

I put my fork down, and folded my hands in my lap, waiting for her to finish. "I know you're not thrilled about being on the ship, and I do realize that math isn't your favorite subject, but you need to realize that I want the best for you. In just a few years you'll be going off to college, or the Academy –"

I interrupted with an ill-contained snort. "I am _so_ not Starfleet material, Mom. College, yes. The Academy, never. Anyway, I'm going to the Martian, like Dad." 'The Martian' was shorthand for the Martian Academy of Music and the Arts. It was the premiere conservatory in sector one.

"– and then you can make your own decisions," she continued, as if I'd never interrupted her. "Until then, you're stuck with me, Kiddo, and I think you should follow your teacher's suggestion and take this tutorial with Commander Data, and in order to do that, you need to ask him."

I sighed, clenching my fingers into fists under the table then releasing them. "I'll do the tutorial," I said, "but can't _you_ ask him? I mean, you see him every day – you report directly to him – and I've only ever said hello once." I was whining, and I hated it, but I really didn't want to go up to any officer and ask for math help, and especially not the only android in the 'fleet. I mean. Commander Data was the epitome of 'proper' and I was decidedly…not.

"Zoe…" My mother was still smiling, but her tone held that warning note. The one that meant if I didn't agree to her wishes she'd move to phase two. Nevertheless, I whined a little more.

"Mo-om. Please?"

But she was ready for me. "Zoe Lauren Harris, you are fifteen, not five. I love you, but you need to do this on your own," she said.

Once she'd used my middle name, I knew there was no chance of winning. "Alright," I said. "I'll do it. Is an intra-ship communication acceptable, or do I need to replicate stationery and use actual ink?" I'd moved from whiney to snarky, but that was usual for me. I lifted a hand to push a stray piece of my own chestnut-brown hair back behind my ear, then returned it to my lap.

"Intra-ship text may be fine with your friends, but it's not appropriate with senior officers," my mother decreed. "Commander Data's actually very nice, Zoe. Really. And you know, he's a musician, too."

Carrot. Stick. My mother knew me too well. I'd do almost anything that involved hanging out with other musicians. "Okay, okay," I said. "I'll ask him. But when I fry his circuits with my complete and total stupidity, I reserve the right to say, 'I told you so.'"

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43672.35**

**(Saturday, 3 September 2366, 09:47 hours, ship's time)**

"You set me up on a blind date?" I asked my mother incredulously. "For breakfast? On a _weekend_? Even for you, Mom that's kind of pushing it."

"Having Wesley Crusher take you to the teen brunch in Ten-Forward is hardly a blind date, Zoe," my mother responded, not looking up from her padd. "You're too young to be dating, actually."

I rolled my eyes, knowing she couldn't see me. I'd already dated, sort of, back home. Of course, it was easy for her to be calm – she'd had her morning coffee already, and was currently – if I guessed correctly – catching up on news, first from around the ship, then other ships, then outside the 'fleet. "You might've at least asked me if I wanted to go," I grumped.

"Don't roll your eyes at me," she said off-handedly. How did she always know? "If I had asked would you have agreed to go?"

"Well, no," I admitted. I slouched into the other chair at the table in our quarters, which weren't all _that_ bad, really. I mean, they were bigger than the average hotel suite and the art was personal, at least. "But _Wesley_?"

"What's wrong with Wesley?"

I stared at my mother for a long moment before answering. "Nothing, exactly, it's just…"

"Yes?" The word might have been neutral, but the tone in which she uttered it was decidedly…not.

"He's kind of stiff and…boring," I said. "All he wants to do is suck up to the engineering crew and get the senior officers to notice him." There weren't that many teenagers on the ship, so even though I'd only been aboard a few weeks, I already knew, or at least knew _of_ , most of them.

"He has goals, Zoe. Just because they differ from yours…"

"Mom, you _so_ don't get it. Wanting to be in Starfleet – I get that. I mean, I wouldn't do it if you begged, but I understand it. Wesley though…he just doesn't. Do. Anything. Else. He doesn't read, he doesn't keep up with holo-vids, he doesn't pay attention to music or art or even politics…"

My mother set down her padd. "No," she said, in calm agreement. Maybe too calm. "He doesn't do anything else. He's extremely focused, which is admirable in someone so young, and I know you're not without focus yourself, Ms. Martian School. Nice shirt, by the way."

I looked down at the faded sweatshirt from my father's alma mater, and it's dusty red planet surrounded by stylized comedy and tragedy masks, music notes, and a paintbrush and planet. The back bore the name of the school: Martian School of Music and The Arts. I knew it was a little too casual for the ship, but it was comfortable, and it smelled like home. "Okay, Mom," I said, toying with the glass of juice she'd set out for me. "Focus good, and all that, but…"

"But he's a nice boy doing a favor for a friend of his mother, and you might pause a moment to consider the notion that you might be good for each other," my mother pointed out.

"How so?"

"You're right about him not having any other interests. Beverly – that's Dr. Crusher to you, kiddo – is concerned about that as much as I'm concerned that you're passing up opportunities because you're afraid of success."

"I'm not afraid of anything," I said. It would have been more effective if my voice hadn't caught in the middle, though. "Well, not most things."

"Only new people, new situations, prospective tutors, and spiders."

"That's only four things," I said, in my best I'm-making-a-point-even-if-it's-silly tone. "And I'm not even afraid of the first two unless they involve Starfleet. Back home, or touring with Dad, there was no fear here. Besides, there are way more things than that that _don't_ scare me." I sniffed, "Anyway, spiders are evil."

My mother laughed. "Fair enough," she said. "How about a deal, then?"

"A deal?"

"Mmhm. Go with Wesley and the other kids to the teen brunch. Stay for the concert that the wind ensemble is giving – Commander Data's part of it – and you can kill two birds with one stone…"

I peered closely at my mother. "And what do I get if I do this?"

"Skating with your favorite mother in the holo-deck one night this week."

Again my mother was proving how well she knew me. Ice skating was one of our only mother-daughter activities from when I was little, and even though I was really, really clumsy at it, I always had fun. "I guess that would be okay," I said. "If…"

"If…?"

"If you promise me I will never, _ever_ have to wear one of those hideous gray jumpsuits. They're a bigger fashion 'don't' than wearing real leather on Vulcan, and no one looks good in them."

My mother laughed. "I promise," she said.

I stopped playing with my juice glass at that point, and lifted the glass to drain it, setting it down just as the annunciator chimed. My not-a-date had arrived. I smoothed my hair and went to the door, "See you later, Mom," I said, stepping into the corridor.

Wesley, thankfully, was not wearing a jumpsuit today, either, just a really bulky cinnamon colored sweater. "Hi," he said, grinning at me.

I forced a not-quite-sunny smile, "Hi," I said. "I'm really sorry our mothers forced you into this."

"I didn't mind."

"Oh…good. So, do these 'teen brunches' happen often?"

He started walking, and I fell into step beside him, listening. "About once a month. Ms. Phelps and Counselor Troi started them because they were concerned that the older kids didn't socialize enough. Different people from the crew come and talk to us about hobbies and interests, and if they're part of a musical group or the theater club they sometimes perform."

"There's a theater club?" I asked with more enthusiasm than was really necessary. "Really? Is it adults-only or can anyone join?"

"Oh, if there are parts for kids or teenagers, they let us know during school. Josh has been in a couple of plays, I think."

"Do you ever participate?"

"I don't have much time, really. I'm usually working on science or math, or helping out in engineering, when they let me."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at this. He was trying to be nice, after all, and even a wannabe Academy drone was better company than no one.

**(=A=)**

When we got to Ten-Forward, I noticed that several tables had been clustered closer together than I remembered from previous visits, and that the cluster of tables was set apart from the rest of the space.

"Josh, Dana, T'vek – come meet Zoe." Wesley called to a trio of kids who seemed to be about our age.

Josh was tall, and handsome verging on pretty. He had the long-ish brown hair and easy-going manner of a surfer. No surprise that he was into performing. Dana was about the same height as me, thinner, and blonde, but her hair was pulled into a lazy pony-tail and her grin was truly friendly. T'vek had shaggy black hair that threatened to touch his shoulders, but didn't, quite, and dusky skin that could have been from any Terran Asian ethnicity, though the black, black eyes and something about the way he carried himself also screamed 'Vulcan,' or maybe 'Vulcan hybrid,' and when our eyes met there was a glimmer of…something.

"Hi," I said to the group.

For several minutes the five of us stood around looking at each other sort of sheepishly. Finally T'vek said. "You're in our lit class, aren't you? You were arguing a point with the teacher during orientation the other day?"

Formal classes were only just beginning for the school year. "That's me," I said. "I think we're in 'Intro to Vulcan' together, too."

He grinned. "Yeah…the parentals thought I should learn my native language – well, one of them – from the ground up."

_So he was a hybrid. Interesting._ "Not a bad plan," I said.

We lapsed into awkward silence again, but then Dana said, "Zoe, you have no idea how good it is to have another girl here. The boys outnumber us like crazy. And they're nice and all, but…"

I laughed. "But they don't know the difference between trendy and tragic when it comes to important things like clothing and shoes?"

"Exactly," she said. "So, I heard your father is an orchestra conductor…do you know a lot of famous musicians?"

I found myself answering her questions without thinking about it, explaining that I never knew which of the musicians he worked with were famous or not, really, because there was basically a revolving door of guest artists coming through our house and our lives. Before I knew it, we were all sitting down, and the other couple of tables filled with teens both younger and a bit older than the five of us. Just as we were being presented with food, the open chair at our table – the one directly across from me - was filled by none other than the man I was tasked with meeting later.

"Data," Dana said, grinning at him. "This is Zoe Harris. She's new."

I looked across the table and slightly up, and found myself staring into the most amazing yellow eyes I'd ever seen. Okay, the only yellow eyes I'd ever seen, but still…

He paused for the merest fraction of a second before speaking. "Welcome to the _Enterprise_ , Miss Harris. Are you adapting satisfactorily?"

I hesitated for a much more noticeable length of time. Was I supposed to call him by rank or by name, or…well…Dana had used his name… "I'm getting a little more comfortable, I guess," I said, avoiding the issue entirely. "It's different actually living here, instead of just visiting."

"Zoe's dad is a conductor, Data. Did you know?" Dana asked.

"Lieutenant Harris has mentioned as much," he answered her, then added in my direction. "She also said that you have inherited your father's love of music."

"I _think_ in music," I admitted. "Well, in songs, anyway. But yeah, I mean, yes. Theatre, music, and surfing are my favorite things in life." I hesitated, not sure if I should keep talking or not, and finally, since everyone else was quiet, I added, "I play the cello, mostly."

"Interesting," Data said. "I have been engaged in a personal study of the violin. Perhaps we could duet sometime."

"Um, sure…?" I wasn't quite certain what the proper response to that was supposed to be.

Thankfully my mention of theater and surfing had caught Josh's attention, and he started chattering about the theater club, and how he was hoping the ship would be near Risa again soon so he could catch some waves.

Fortunately food was presented, and Josh chose to eat rather than keep talking. I liked him, I decided. He reminded me of some of my friends from home. Easy. Harmless. The distraction of food also prevented me from staring at Lt. Commander Data. There was something about him…something I couldn't put my finger on. Also he was a lot more animated than I'd expected an android to be. Really, I decided, he was just a gold-skinned slightly stiff person.

As the remains of brunch were cleared away, Data and several of the other adults present – a mix of officers and civilians – rose from their seats and moved to the small stage that had been erected against one wall of the lounge. He played the oboe as well as the violin, apparently. He was good, as far as I could tell, but the blonde woman with the clarinet was off-tempo, and telegraphed it with a frustrated expression.

After the wind ensemble's concert there was more time to mingle, and many of the kids formed new groups. Wes and a girl who was taller than Dana, but also blonde, were standing next to Data, and I recalled that I still had a task to complete. I excused myself from the conversation I was sort-of having with Josh, Dana, and T'vek, and approached the android and his…groupies.

The threesome paused their conversation when I approached, and I blushed when Data turned his yellow-eyed gaze to me. "I'm sorry to interrupt," I began, following my favorite rule ('it never hurts to be polite'), "Commander Data, could I have a minute of your time, please?"

"Of course," he replied. "Wesley, Annette, do you mind?"

Annette! Of course! We had a history class together!

Both she and Wesley said they didn't mind, and the latter said, "Find me when you're ready, and I'll walk you home if you want."

Once they were gone, though, I froze, momentarily forgetting what I was supposed to be asking about.

"Is something wrong, Miss Harris?" Data asked softly.

I shook my head, clearing it, and wrinkled my nose. "Commander Data, could you just call me 'Zoe?'" I requested. "When people call me 'Miss Harris' I always expect that I'm about to be grounded, or something."

"Of course," he said again, "if you will call me 'Data,' as the other young people do."

"It's a deal," I said, and the phrase kicked me back into gear. "Ms. Phelps mentioned to my mother that you offer a math tutorial to students who ask, and I promised Mom I would. Ask you, I mean. I'm pretty sure it's a mistake, because I'm an epic failure with anything beyond basic arithmetic, but I already tried arguing with Mom, and I lost, so if there's room in your class, may I join…please?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to determine what species I really was, then said. "I have experienced your mother's persuasive discussion style, Zoe. She is a formidable opponent in debate. As well, Ms. Phelps spoke to me about you. I have reviewed your test scores and they imply that you are not, in fact, an 'epic failure.'" He managed to make the quotation marks around my phrase audible. "I would be pleased to include you in the tutorial," he continued. "We meet at ten-hundred hours, three days a week. I will send this week's assignment to your terminal."

"Thank you," I said, "I'll try not to scare you with my utter lack of computational skills."

He opened his mouth to say something – probably to tell me he couldn't be scared – but then his name was being called, and he moved to leave, saying only, "Excuse me, Zoe. I will see you in class."

I waited for him to exit before re-joining Wesley. Almost everyone else had gone already. "What was that about?" he asked.

"Math class," I grumbled. "I was 'strongly encouraged' to ask to join his tutorial."

"That's great!" Wesley said. "Data's an amazing teacher, really. Really patient. And it'll be nice having another student."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure it'll be fabulous," I snarked,

He frowned slightly. "You don't want to be in our class?"

I was forced to confess, "I hate math."

The walk back to the turbo-lift, and then back to my mother's quarters was mostly silent.


	2. Starfleet Royalty

**Stardate 43677.68**

**(Monday, 5 September, 2366, 08:30 hours, ship's time)**

"Rise and shine, Kiddo!" my mother's voice sing-songed too close to my ear. I'd have thrown a pillow at her but both of mine were under my head. I settled for rolling over and ignoring her, which didn't work, of course. She simply snuck her hand under the covers and tickled the bottom of my foot. "Come on, sleepyhead. Even your powerful will cannot keep the day from starting."

I snatched my foot away, and sat up in what I desperately wished was a smooth motion, but probably was more of a desperate leap away from her oval-tipped, manicured fingers. "Leave my feet alone," I grumbled.

But she was laughing. "Tickling a child's feet is a mother's right and very special privilege," she said said, from her position at the foot of my bed, just beyond my ability to kick. "Besides, it's the one way I've been guaranteed to wake you, since you were a baby."

"Okay, fine," I said in my grumpiest morning voice. "But I'm not going to smile, and I'm only going to eat breakfast because I don't think I can face the first day of Data's math tutorial on an empty stomach."

"That's _Commander_ Data, to you, Zoe," my mother corrected.

"Actually, he said to just use his name, 'as the other young people do'." I imitated his intonation and caught my mother trying not to grin. I waited a beat for the mood to shift, then began, "Mom?"

"Zoe?" She used my same, serious tone.

"What if I really am abysmal?"

"You're not," she assured. "But you will miss your first class if you don't get dressed. Fifteen minutes to breakfast." She left the room, and the door slid shut behind her.

I closed my eyes for a long moment, gathering myself together, then zipped through my usual morning machine. I would have preferred a water shower, but sonic ones were faster, at least. Technically, I knew, they were more hygienic as well, but there was something so comforting – and so luxurious – about hot water. For clothing, I chose black, and lots of it, adding an old fisherman's cap I'd stolen from my father as a finishing touch. Like him, I was a hat person.

Breakfast was quiet. My mother used the time before her shift to check messages and read news bulletins, and I connected earpods to my padd and listened to music while I had _café au lait_ and oatmeal. I wasn't really a fan of replicator-food, but the ability to have frou-frou coffee at my fingertips was a big draw, and it was pretty difficult to ruin oatmeal.

Eventually, our door-annunciator chimed, and then the door _wooshed_ open in response to my mother's invitation to come in and my new friend Dana was there. Dana. We'd hung out again the day after the brunch, learned we had a _lot_ of the same classes, and quarters in the same part of deck ten, and had agreed to walk to class together.

I pulled the 'pods out of my ears, picked up my padd, kissed Mom on the cheek, and left.

"Nice hat," Dana observed as we made our way to the nearest turbo-lift. "You know we won't actually run into inclement weather between here and class, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "It wouldn't surprise me if we did," I snarked, and then I gave her a sheepish grin. "Sorry. The hat…it's actually more of a security thing. I really don't like math, and I really don't want to be in this class, I thought the hat would help." I paused, then added. "It's my father's. I guess I kind of…miss him."

"That's understandable," Dana assured. "All of it, actually. But Data's not scary in class, really. Actually, he's not all that scary outside of class, either." She waited a moment then asked, "Is the all-black outfit a security thing, too?"

"Power color," I said. "I will be a social and mathematical ninja today." She smiled, and we stepped into the lift, and then rode down three decks to the ship's school, where we ran into the T'vek and Josh exiting a different car. "Or not," I muttered under my breath.

The boys either sensed my nervousness or were too wrapped up in their own conversation to really pay attention, so Dana and I walked around them, through the school section, and into the small multi-purpose room where out tutorial was apparently being held, and where Wesley was already in the middle of an animated discussion with our instructor.

"Hey, Crusher, Data," Josh breezed into the room and pushed past Data and me. "I get to sit near the new girl!"

Dana and I exchanged annoyed looks and picked chairs – I ended up in the center of the table with Dana and Josh on either side of me, T'vek on the other side of Josh, and Wesley next to Dana, in the seat closest to the door

"The 'new girl' has a name, Josh. Please use it," Data said mildly. "Welcome, Zoe. As you can see, seating in this class is fairly informal."

"Thank you," I said, "I noticed." I also noticed that Wesley was staring at me. I would have bet that the center chair was usually his, and knowing that made me settle into it. Data adjusted his chair's position relative to the oblong table, and asked me softly, "Did you receive the assignments I sent last night?"

This tutorial had actually been meeting for a week already, while the rest of our classes were just beginning, and around nine - twenty-one hundred hours – the previous evening, I'd received the assignments from the three days I'd missed. It wasn't a great amount of work, but it looked pretty intense.

"Yes, but your note said I had the week to catch up?" I made it a question, and frowned when my voice shook a little. I wasn't usually nervous, despite my mother's comment about new people and situations. It was only here, on Starfleet's flagship, that I'd developed a touch of…caution…about talking to strangers.

"That is correct. Please see me after class or feel contact me if you require assistance."

"Sure," I said. "I mean, yes, thank-you. I'll do that."

The next hour passed more quickly than I expected, although I didn't speak up much. I tend to prefer to observe the dynamics before jumping into groups, and I was accustomed to math classes with twenty or thirty students, and having to raise hands in order to speak. Data's tutorial was really more like a seminar, with everyone jumping in to discuss the problems he posed, until each of us understood the concepts. If math had been like this at home, I might not have hated it.

I don't know if a human teacher would have picked up on my near-silence during that first hour, or if Data simply had some sort of sub-routine running that tallied how many times he heard each of us speak, but after we'd had a ten minute break to stretch, and class resumed, he turned to me and asked me to work through a proof he'd assigned earlier in the session.

"Data, don't put her on the spot like that on her first day," Wesley said, before I could answer.

I shot him a quick glowering glance. I didn't need his protection! Then I turned back to Data. "I'm fine," I said. "Really." I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts, and then slowly worked through the problem until I'd found the answer I thought was right.

"Your method was unorthodox, but the result is correct. Which of you can demonstrate a more direct route to the solution?"

Josh jumped on the question, spitting out the answer without even consulting his padd, and I have to admit, I was impressed. He grinned at me, and whispered, "It's easier when you know the result you need to get."

I couldn't help but laugh at that, though I tried to hide it. The rest of the class went even faster, but I didn't speak up again, nor was I called on, and while I was relieved, I was also a little disappointed. I'd never been terribly competitive in this subject before, but the class structure Data had created made learning new concepts comfortable, and almost fun. He sent our homework assignments directly to our padds, and then excused the class, just as a chime indicated the allotted time was over.

I turned in my seat, intending to invite Dana to join me for lunch in one of the mess halls frequented by civilians and junior officers, but Wesley caught my eye before I could. "Zoe, do you want to come to lunch? Data and I are meeting Geordi there – we usually go together because I have helm duty instead of afternoon classes, and we're allowed into Ten-Forward if we're over sixteen or with an adult."

"Dana and I had made tentative plans," I fibbed. Having lunch with Wesley, my teacher, and someone I didn't know wasn't exactly at the top of my to-do list, especially on the first day of classes. "Maybe we should all go together?"

"My father doesn't let me go to Ten-Forward without prior permission," Dana said. "He's in security."

"And paranoid," Josh added.

"Oh, I'm sorry…"

"It's fine. You should go with Wes and Data – really –"

Josh interrupted her again, "Seriously Zoe, go with Data and WonderBoy. You can hang out with us, anytime."

"Mind if I walk up to Ten-Forward with you?" T'vek's voice cut through the rest of ours like velvet. Crushed velvet. "I'm meeting my father there, and then Zoe and I can return to the school deck together for our Vulcan class."

"See, it's a plan," Dana smiled. "And Josh and I have a history presentation to finish anyway. We'll catch up later – in fact, plan on lunch tomorrow. I know exactly which mess we should hit."

I glanced at our tutor, who, I now realized, had been watching our exchange with naked interest. "I guess I'm joining you and Wesley," I said. "If I wouldn't be intruding?"

"You would not be," he assured. "We would be happy to have you join us."

"Alright, then, I accept," I said, directing my answer to him, rather than my classmate.

Josh and Dana left, while the rest of us gathered our belongings and exited the room a minute or so after.

There was a weird moment in the turbo-lift when T'vek stopped dead in the entry, and I had to nudge him, but other than that nothing was terribly awkward, though I did feel a bit stupid when I asked the group, "Um…who's Geordi?"

"'Geordi' is Commander LaForge," Data answered matter-of-factly. "He is the chief engineer of the _Enterprise._ "

I'm sure it was a glitch in the turbo-lift's balance sensors that caused me to lose my footing just a little, stumbling backward into T'vek.

"You okay?" he whispered.

"Oh, sure," I whispered back. "Cuz new students get to have lunch with Starfleet royalty every day."

"Actually," he said, his lips very close to my ear. "On this ship, they do."

I managed – barely – not to blush when Data, having obviously heard everything we said, asked in an innocent tone, "Query: when you say 'Starfleet royalty,' Zoe, are you referring to Commander LaForge and myself?"

"Yes," I said, looking up and into his yellow eyes. "Yes, I am."

His only response was a soft. "Hm."

**(=A=)**

"You're Lieutenant Harris's daughter, aren't you?" Geordi LaForge asked me as I took a seat at the table he was holding for all of us in Ten-Forward. I ended up opposite Data again, and between Geordi and Wesley. "I heard Em had brought you aboard. You probably don't remember, but we met several years ago. You were visiting at Christmas -"

"- and you were leading a tour. You noticed I was bored, and you took me to engineering and let me ride the lift in engineering up and down til I was nauseous. I remember wishing all of my mother's friends were as cool as you, sir."

He chuckled at that, and said, "I'm not 'sir' to you - just Geordi. And you're…" he trailed off, clearly not remembering my name.

"This is Zoe," Data supplied helpfully. "She joined my math tutorial this morning, and 'held her own,' despite a warning to expect her to be 'abysmal.'"

I couldn't help but grin at being teased by my tutor on the first day, but I resisted the urge to respond with my usual level of snark, the way that I would have had the remark come from Wesley or anyone I was comfortable with. Instead I said, in a tone that was only half self-deprecating, "Give me time."

We ordered food after that, and the conversation remained light as we ate. Well, as most of us ate. Data hadn't ordered, and I had to wonder if he felt at all out of place as we all chewed and swallowed our way through an hour. Leaning toward Wesley, I asked in what I thought was a soft whisper, "Does Data ever eat?"

My classmate opened his mouth to answer, but Data beat him to it. "I do not require sustenance," he stated matter-of-factly, "though I sometimes do eat in order to experience a new food, or when required for diplomatic reasons."

"Diplomatic, like, if you're at an official dinner?" I asked. "I guess that makes sense," I went on, not waiting for a response, but sort of musing over my chicken Caesar salad, "I mean, if you're in the middle of negotiating an arms treaty or passing initial judgment over whether a planet should join the Federation, it's probably easier to just eat what you're given, rather than spend time explaining why you're not tasting anything."

"This is especially true within societies where shared meals are the equivalent of a state meeting," he confirmed, but he added after a beat. "Zoe, I understand that curiosity is normal, and I am willing to answer any question, but if you desire information about me in the future, please ask me directly."

I had been rude, and he was right to call me on it. "I'm sorry, Data," I said, meeting his eyes even though I really wanted to look away. He blinked and his yellow eyes connected with a dim memory in my head, and I gasped.

"Is something wrong?"

I shook my head. "No...I just remembered. I met _you_ on that visit, too. Or…well, I didn't actually _meet you_ meet you, but I saw you give a presentation on the science labs and how there would be civilian consultants as well as Starfleet personnel working here." I blushed. "How could I have forgotten meeting you?"

Next to me, Commander LaForge was chuckling. "Wow, Data, that's a first. I didn't think you'd ever managed to not be memorable."

"It is, indeed," Data said. His eyes moved back and forth, flickering like a frightened bird's, until finally he said. "You were wearing a forest green sweater, a brown suede skirt, and boots. Your hair was braided, and you were sitting in the third row of chairs."

"Show-off," Geordi murmured to his friend.

"I'm sorry I forgot you. I think I asked Mom to introduce me, and she said you were probably too busy."

"I also," he said, "was curious about the very young guest who attended my presentation."

"Well," I said brightly, "we've met now."

He offered me a single nod of acknowledgement then turned his attention to Wesley, reminding him, "You wished to ask Commander LaForge about your deflector project. I would like to hear your proposal as well."

The boy-wonder launched into a convoluted explanation involving magnets, propulsion, deflector shields, and warp energy, and while I recognized the individual words they were using, the concepts were so far beyond what I knew - or wanted to know - about ship operations that my salad became incredibly fascinating, and when it was gone, I spent time watching Data's facial expressions until my eyes glazed over.

I was jolted from my lunch-table coma by the feeling of someone's hands resting on my shoulders, and a woman's voice observing, "Nice hat."

Glancing behind me, and slightly upwards, I found myself looking into the dark eyes and serene smile of the woman I'd glimpsed behind the bar several nights before when I was having dinner with my mother. "Yours, too," I said, though honestly, I wouldn't have been caught dead in the disc-and-hood contraption this woman was wearing.

"I'm Guinan," she said.

"I'm Zoe," I responded. Around us, Data, Geordi and Wesley were still absorbed in their discussion of Wes's project. "And yes," I added, since everyone seemed to want to confirm it, "Lieutenant Harris is my mother. Are you the…bartender?"

"Among other things," was her cryptic answer. I was about to ask her _what_ things, but she pointedly cleared her throat, and in response, my three table-mates stopped their conversation. "Gentlemen," she began, in a soft but confident voice, "When you invite a young woman to lunch - you are obligated to include her in the conversation."

Wesley reacted first. "Oh, God, Zoe, I'm sorry - I just started talking about my project and completely forgot you were here."

"Gee, thanks, Wes," I snarked. "Just what every girl wants to hear."

Geordi glanced up at Guinan, then back at me. "Sorry, Zoe. Wes just gets so excited about his ideas that his enthusiasm is contagious."

"I, too, apologize for neglecting you, Zoe," Data added.

"Um, it's okay, really," I said, suddenly embarrassed by all the attention. "I should go, anyway. I have Vulcan and a music lesson this afternoon, and T'vek's hovering by the doors." I waited for Guinan to move from behind my chair, and pushed it back. "Thanks for rescuing me," I said, and gave her a sincere smile.

"Any time," she said, moving away. "Come say hello next time you're here."

I stood up, promising I would do as she asked. "Thanks for inviting me, Wes," I continued. "It was sweet of you, really."

"I really am sorry," he said.

"I know. It's cool." I was all of two steps from the table when Data called my name. "Yes?" I asked.

"Do not hesitate to contact me if you require assistance with the make-up work I assigned for class."

"No," I said, "I won't." Inspiration hit me then, and I offered him my best innocent grin. "Data, you said you'd answer any question?"

"That is correct."

"Okay. What's the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?" It was a line I'd learned from my father - a bit from an ancient twentieth century comedy show. I wasn't expecting Data to take the question seriously, and I certainly wasn't expecting the question he asked in response.

His eyes did that birdlike flicker again and then he responded to my question with one of his own. "An African or European swallow?"

I chose that moment to make a hasty retreat, holding my laughter until I'd reached the relative safety of the corridor. The befuddled looks on both Wesley and Geordi's faces were well worth it, and I had a sneaking suspicion that my android math tutor might turn out to be a friend, of sorts.

"What was that about?" T'vek asked, once we were outside the door. "Airspeed of swallows?"

I smiled. "Oh, just me being bratty."

He grinned at me. "I _like_ it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to ffnet in 2008, and updated 27 August 2015 for continuity and to bring forward a couple of character moments. The question about the airspeed of a swallow is, of course, stolen from Monty Python.


	3. Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe's finally got a routine, and then a shaggy-haired Vulcan/Betazoid boy suggests that she help him with certain plans.

**Plans**

 

**Stardate 43716.16**

**(Monday, 19 September 2366, 09:37 hours, ship's time)**

Roughly two months into my new life aboard the _Enterprise_ , and two or three weeks into the school year, I had finally settled into a routine. Three mornings a week, I met my friend Dana in the corridor between her quarters and mine, and we rode the lift to our math tutorial together. Most mornings, the boys - Josh, T'vek and Wesley, would be in the lift already, but sometimes we'd leave a little earlier and arrive enough ahead of them to have time to chat a bit before class.

Our tutorial met in a conference room one deck down from the bridge, rather than on the deck where the rest of "school" took place, but even though I complained about it to my mother - loudly and often - that math and I didn't get along, the truth is, once I got used to Commander Data's perpetual calm, and discovered that he had an encyclopedic knowledge of twentieth century comedy - something my father had gotten me hooked on when I was really little - I began to enjoy the class. Well, except for the times that Wesley cornered me afterward to ask me out. It had happened often enough to become annoying, and while I knew I could ask my mother, she was good friends with _his_ mother, and it would have been messy, so I tended to let it go.

During the first couple weeks of class – ever since that lunch on the first day, really - I'd even initiated a private game with Data: sneaking Monty Python references into our discussions whenever possible, just to see if he'd react. Most of the time, he left his responses in the comments on returned, graded assignments, but once in a while he would answer with the next line in the sequence. Dana and the boys were often perplexed by our exchanges, but then, we were _all_ perplexed by some of the exchanges Data had with Wesley. Even T'vek, who aspired to a career in propulsion engineering when he wasn't dreaming about a career in architecture, confessed once that he didn't understand half of what they were talking about.

Needless to say, I was caught off-guard when it was T'vek, and not Dana, who was waiting at the usual pre-class rendezvous point. "Are you lost?" I asked, only half-kidding. I knew by now that T'vek was half Vulcan and half Betazoid - a combination that gave him inky black eyes, and the ability to charm almost every girl aboard the ship who was over the age of twelve, except that he was too nice a guy to actually _do_ it.

He made a show of looking around, "Deck nine, intersection C-7," he said, offering me a grin. "Apparently not."

"Okay," I began, skepticism heavy in my tone. "Are you here to convince me to do your English essay for you? Because Dana already warned me that you'd asked her, and…"

"Do you really think I'd go a deck and a half out of my way just for an essay?" he asked, cutting me off. "I need your help with something bigger."

"My help?" I asked, feeling somewhat stupid. "Sorry, I haven't had enough caffeine or sugar yet today. Could you be more specific?"

"I'm getting to it," he assured, as he took off in the opposite direction that Dana and I generally walked. He stopped when he realized I hadn't moved to follow. "What?"

"You're going the wrong way."

"Not really. It is a longer route, but I've estimated the time needed to convince you that offering your assistance would be logical, and we will still make it to class on time."

I rolled my eyes at that. T'vek may have been half-Vulcan, but his usual personality was all Betazoid - warm, light, and full of emotion and humor. "Fine, spill."

"Your father is conducting the Capitol City Orchestra of Centaurus," he said with a note of expectation in his voice. No doubt he'd planned that.

"Tell me something I _don't_ know."

He ignored my sarcasm, and continued. "The Orchestra has announced their upcoming tour, and will be playing a series of concerts on Serenity Five in about six weeks. I believe our math class should attend."

I blinked at him. "I didn't know you were into that kind of music," I said.

"I'm not…particularly," he admitted. "But Serenity Five is also home to the sector's only amusement park where every gravity coaster is mathematically designed to induce the optimum combination of fear and pleasure."

"I've read about it," I admitted in return. "Small problem: the _Enterprise_ isn't scheduled to be anywhere near the Serenity system."

"That's where you come in," T'vek said. "We will be close enough to travel there by shuttle, but the park alone isn't enough reason to request a pilot, chaperones, and hotel vouchers. If, however, we are all escorting our dear friend Zoe to visit her father…" He let the sentence trail off.

"I don't know," I said, deadpan. "I'm not sure if I appreciate being used for my connections."

"C'mon, Zoe. Even _I_ know you're not exactly in love with shipboard life."

"I haven't complained about it in over a week," I protested, though I had to add, "in public."

"Our parents talk," he revealed. "Will you ask your father if he can arrange tickets?"

I had to think it over. And I also had to ask, "The chaperones would be our parents, right? Who is the pilot likely to be? Some ensign barely older than we are?"

"No. The last time we went anywhere, Commander Data took us. He designed math problems about skiing and ice skating and stuff…but it wasn't too bad, really." He waited thirty seconds in silence, then asked, "Will you ask your father, Zoe? If I don't have your answer in five point seven seconds, we may be late for class."

"Start walking," I said, because we'd been talking in the corridor for a while. "I'll answer by the time we get there. How many days is it to Serenity Five? And what do you need my father to provide? Just tickets?"

"Two out, three back," T'vek informed me. I was going to ask why the return trip was longer, but I realized it had to do with the ship's planned route. "He'd need to arrange seats for us, and promise some sort of educational advantage. Perhaps a tour of the concert hall and a question-and-answer session with some of the musicians."

"You've been planning this for a while, haven't you?"

"Only since last session, really." He paused and turned to face me, giving me his best grin. "I work fast."

We entered the lift, and I remained silent, listening to the hum as it traversed the ship, and thinking about being in a shuttle for five days. Upside: Data would probably be there. Downside, at least one of our parents would, as well. Other downside: Wesley Crusher would be there, too.

Our classmates were already inside the conference room when we arrived a few seconds later, and when we walked in, we were left no option but to sit together in the two remaining open seats. As I settled into my chair, and he settled into his, T'vek arched an eyebrow at me and I realized how I could use the situation to my advantage.

"T'vek? The question I promised to answer?" I said, in a too-sweet, too-coy tone designed to make him worry. "The answer is 'yes'."

Across the table, Wes's expression soured a little, but I didn't have time to worry about it, because Commander Data arrived at that point, and class began.

 

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43721.63**

**(Wednesday, 21 September 2366, 09:32 hours, ship's time)**

"It's done," I said to T'vek as he left his family's quarters two days later. This time, I was waiting for him, and had asked Josh to make sure he and Wes went to class without us.

To his credit, the half-Vulcan/half-Betazoid boy knew exactly what I meant. "Your father agreed," he asked, but it was really more a confirmation than a question.

"Maestro Harris is delighted to have the advanced mathematics tutorial students from U. S. S. _Enterprise_ attend the Centaurian Capitol City Orchestra's first concert on Serenity Five," I said, in a fake upper-crust accent. I earned a flash of smile, and continued in my normal voice, "He'll arrange for us to tour the concert hall, meet some of the musicians, and attend a pre-concert lecture. There may be an after-party, but it'll be optional. Well, optional for everyone except me."

"Because the Maestro's daughter has to make an appearance?" He was teasing me a little, but I didn't mind.

"Oh, absolutely. You know, if there _is_ an after-party, I should make you go with me. You sort of owe me now."

"Do I?"

"You do," I said. "You _know_ you do."

"Can't fault your logic," he agreed amiably. "And it would annoy Crusher."

"There is that."

"Of course we still have to convince Data," he added. "And we can't do that standing around the corridor."

"I suppose you want me to ask _him_ , too?" I actually didn't mind that bit. I wanted to ask our tutor about an issue I was having with an instructional program, anyway.

"Oh, would you?" His grin was too smug. "Hand me your padd."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Carrying my books? Are you being sexist or chivalrous?" This time, I was teasing.

"Chivalrous, always, Zoe. And this will also annoy Crusher."

I handed over my padd, and he tucked both his and mine under his arm. Together, we walked down the corridor to the nearest lift, chatting along the way. By the time we met our classmates at the conference room door I was almost - almost - thinking that T'vek might be potential date material even if annoying Wesley wasn't part of the bargain.

T'vek and I had agreed on the way to class that I should be the one to ask Data about the our little field trip, so after an intense lesson that nearly had Wes and T'vek shouting at each other over the correct method of answering a problem - Wesley made an intuitive leap and couldn't explain the steps, while T'vek took longer, but was able to break it down - I asked our tutor if he had a moment to answer a question after class.

"Are you having difficulties with this material, Zoe?" he asked, with enough inflection that from anyone else I'd have assumed it was concern. He'd waited for the room to be empty.

"No more than ever," I replied in a teasing tone. "My main difficulty is just the general not-wanting-to-be-here thing. That's kind of what I wanted to ask about."

"You wish to re-visit the requirement that you attend this tutorial?" he asked.

"No! I mean…math is never going to be my favorite subject, but you do make it sort of…tolerable." The reality was that even though I still protested loudly, I liked the class and the teacher. "Look, don't tell my mother this, but I pretty much only bitch – " He gave me a look that hinted he might be about to chide me for the language I'd used. "Sorry, um, _complain_ about this class because I don't want her to think she's won."

"I understand," Data said. "It is a matter of pride."

"Sort of," I agreed, adding, "It's a mother-daughter thing."

"Ah." He uttered the little monosyllable that meant he didn't really understand but accepted that he _would_ never understand, and since it clearly wasn't relevant we should move on. At least, that's how I interpreted it. "Then you had another reason for asking to see me after class?"

"Yes," I said. I activated my padd, called up the text of my father's formal invitation - I'd asked him to send it - and handed the device to Data. "My father's orchestra will be in the neighborhood," I said. "He thought the class might like to attend."

Data took a fraction of a second to read the information and returned my padd. "Serenity Five is home to an amusement park of some notoriety," he said.

"So I've heard."

"The Mairaj boy suggested this excursion." It wasn't a question. It wasn't a question in any possible way that 'question' could be defined.

"He did," I confirmed. "But he also said you might be willing to allow a visit to the park if there was a way to make it an assignment, or if it had cultural value...and the invitation from my father is legit."

"Legit…ah, legitimate." He paused, and his eyes did that waking-REM thing that always meant he was searching for information. "I will require your father's contact information. I will also require permission from your mother and the parents of your classmates, as well as two volunteer chaperones. If everything can be arranged we will make the trip."

I tried not to go all girly, and I did manage not to bounce in delight - mainly because I was sitting down - but there might have been the tiniest element of a giddy shriek in my "Thank you!"

"You are welcome," he said in his typically calm way. He rose from his chair. "You are also going to be late for your music lesson, if you do not go eat lunch."

"Speaking of my music lesson," I said, rising from my own chair. "My father added a condition of his own to this trip. He said I need to have a better understanding of music theory in order to apply for The Martian, and the ship's school doesn't offer one."

"Your music teacher does not teach theory?"

"My teacher at home did. But here? At the moment, I have two music teachers. Lt. Caldwell gives voice lessons, but she doesn't have time for anything else, and Lt. Starker is my cello teacher. Seth's great with technique, but says he's not that great at theory himself, and he doesn't have time either. Anyway, he creeps me out; I try to spend as little time around him as possible."

"'Creeps you out?'" His tone of voice made it obvious that he wasn't parsing my slang.

I shrugged. "He gives off this weird vibe. Like… his body language is never quite in synch with his tone of voice, and I catch him staring at me a lot. It's…" I shuddered. "It's creepy, but he's really good at teaching technique, and it's not like starships have hot-and-cold running cello teachers, you know? Anyway, he recommended a holodeck program, but as far as I can tell, secondary school students aren't allowed to access it. The system info said to see the ship's operations officer or second officer…which, I think, are both…you?" I still wasn't all that great with ranks and hierarchies.

Data nodded once. "You are correct, Zoe; I am both the second officer and chief of operations. Do you have the program catalog identification number?" I consulted my padd and gave him the number. "Ah, I see the problem. The program in question is a university-level music theory course, and is part of the continuing education menu."

"So, I didn't do anything wrong? It's just locked because it's a for-credit college course?"

"Essentially, yes."

"Fabulous," I said, in a tone that clearly expressed how very un-fabulous I thought it was. Well, thanks, anyway, Data." I moved toward the door, but he said my name, and I stopped, and turned back.

"Contact me tomorrow. I will have a solution for you."

"I didn't mean to put you to any trouble."

"It is no trouble," he said in the matter-of-fact way that meant it really wasn't.

"Thanks, Data," was all I could say.

I returned to my quarters to have lunch, and made it to my music lesson in time after all…barely.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoe has no interaction with the canon episodes at this part, but for reference, we're currently in between the episodes "Allegiance" and "Captain's Holiday."


	4. String Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe starts her music theory lessons, and they're not at all what she expects. A friendship is claimed. Plans for the field trip move forward, and Zoe and T'vek get closer.

**Stardate 43728.27**

**(Friday, 23 September 2366, 19:43 hours, ship's time)**

I had been nervous about contacting Data on Thursday. We didn't really interact much outside of class, and despite his assurance otherwise, I felt as though I was interrupting something more important. Fortunately, I'd comm'd him when he was on duty, which meant I only had to leave a message.

On Friday, he had paused near the table where Mom and I were having dinner in Ten-Forward, something that was becoming a weekly mother-daughter engagement. "Zoe, may I speak with you a moment?"

"Sure," I'd shrugged. I left the table and followed him to the end of the bar closest to the doors. Some blonde woman was clearly waiting for him there, but his focus had been on me. "I have observed from your work in my mathematics tutorial that a 'hands-on approach' is best for you. As such, I have queried your father about your extant musical theory training, as well as consulted with your teachers here on the _Enterprise_. I believe the next step is for us to meet. Are you available tomorrow?"

Inwardly, I groaned, but when the second officer of Starfleet's flagship is willing to bend his schedule just to be nice to some kid he barely knows, grumbling about having to meet on a weekend is really bad form. "I don't have any firm plans," I said.

"Very well. I will contact you in the morning."

"Okay," I said. "Thank you."

He turned away, our business apparently concluded, and I returned to my mother.

"Everything okay, kiddo? You're not having problems in Data's class, are you?"

I shook my head. "No. That wasn't about class…exactly."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43729.96**

**(Saturday, 24 September 2366, 10:32 hours, ship's time)**

It wasn't my alarm that woke me the next morning, but the incessant chiming of the com-system telling me I had three new messages. While stardates didn't really line up with any planetary calendars, it was, in effect, Saturday, which meant no school. Still, there was something I knew I was supposed to be doing so.

My mother, I knew, was in the middle of a project. More information about the Iconian diaspora had recently been discovered and as a cultural anthropologist, digging through things like that was her specialty.

"Computer," I requested, "what time is it?" I was informed that it was just past 10:30. "Play messages in the order received."

The first message was from T'vek. "Zoe, Josh is up for pirates if you are, but I can't play until after I finish that essay for our lit class. I'm not _asking_ you for help," he said, but then his wheedling tone took over, "but if you were to _offer_ , I wouldn't say no."

Both Josh and T'vek were hooked on a pirate-themed game that was played on the holodeck, using a modified version of one of the Age of Sail programs. Josh, in fact, was _so_ in love with being a dread pirate that he'd even spent a week wearing a bandanna and eye-patch to classes, until Dana had suggested that he needed counseling for his apparent delusion. (We all knew that Josh's other obsession was his massive crush on the chief counselor, Deanna Troi, so embarrassing him about that was just bonus.)

The next call was from Dana, asking if I wanted to go get a mani-pedi with her since the boys were in homework hell til at least fifteen hundred hours. It was tempting, but staying in bed with a novel that wasn't for class was even more so. I was about to return her comm when the third message began to play.

"Zoe, I apologize for the short notice. This is Data." I immediately went on alert, as my math tutor's voice asked me to bring my cello and meet him at a conference room just off the bridge in less than half an hour, and to use his name if anyone questioned my presence, "…as civilians are generally discouraged from visiting the bridge or its immediate vicinity."

Quick as a flash I was out of bed, and rummaging for something to wear, finally landing on the classic combination favored by teenagers since the dawn of time – or at least the last three or four hundred years: a t-shirt (I chose one from the previous summer's music camp, it was purple and bore the quotation, "If music be the food of life, play on!") and jeans. With no time for a shower – even a sonic one – I twisted my hair into braids, grabbed my cello, still in its gig-bag from a lesson earlier in the week, and raced out the door.

I made it to the designated conference room with two minutes to spare.

"Ah, Zoe, you are here," came Data's greeting as I entered the room. "I hope you do not mind. Your father suggested that duet practice might help you to apply theory to technique, so I have brought my violin."

"You want me to play with you?" I asked. "In order to learn theory?" I'd heard he was a decent violinist, but I was expecting a tutorial on how to access the holoprogram I'd wanted, not personal attention.

"Research shows that the more senses humans involve in the learning process, the more retention they are likely to have," Data elaborated. "We will begin with abstract theory, and move on to application. Please be seated."

I collapsed into the nearest chair, wondering what I'd gotten myself into. "Data?" I began, feeling even more awkward than when I'd first asked about the math class.

"Zoe?" Apparently I wasn't the only person who mimicked other people's tones.

"Are you sure you have time for this? I kind of thought you'd just fix it so I could use the holo-program, or modify it for a less advanced student, or…something. I really didn't mean to be a bother."

"It is no bother," he said in the matter-of-fact tone that was usual for him. He turned one of the table-top terminals to face my chair, and sat where he could see it also. "Computer, begin lesson one."

Using the computer program, as a guide, Data spent the better part of an hour quizzing me on musical theory. I wasn't sure if he was trying to figure out how much I already knew, or just trying to torture me - it was an even bet either way by the end - but eventually he called up a piece of music, and lifted his violin from the table. "Shall we play?"

It wasn't a difficult piece, just a folk song arranged as a duet for cello and violin, but playing with Data was more difficult than I had anticipated, and I found myself faltering.

"Is this piece too challenging, Zoe?" he asked, with as much concern as he ever showed. "Everyone I spoke with assured me that you are an accomplished musician."

"It's not the piece." I said. "It's me. Or…I think… it's us. There's a distinct lack of…" I searched for a word, fumbled and finally came up with "…meshy-ness."

"Meshy-ness?" He seemed as if he were tasting the word and finding it unpalatable. "You are implying a lack of connection?"

"Kind of, yeah." I said. "But it's probably mostly me. Dad says I play by instinct, too much. Seth makes me sing the line I'm supposed to play, so I can feel the timing better."

"Ah." Data said. Less than a month of classes with this man, and I'd already learned that the monosyllable was the android equivalent of the lightbulb-in-your-head moments that humans… maybe all organic beings… sometimes have. "This is often the case when I am playing with new partners, Zoe, and it is not 'mostly you.' We are equally at fault. Your 'instinctive playing' means that you are not adhering strictly to the timing marked in the music. As an android, I default to strict time."

I smiled then. "I'm not sure it's just because you're an android. I mean, the first few times I played duets with Seth we weren't in synch at all."

"How did you resolve the issue?"

"Breathing."

"Breathing?" Data asked.

"We would sort of take an exaggerated inhalation breath at the beginning of the piece, and any place - " I pointed to the music " - like here - where there are natural breaks, we'd do the same thing. Breathing together helps you play together." I paused a moment, and then, feeling both sheepish and really rude I asked, "Um. You do breathe, right? I'm not imagining that I see your chest move?" _Oh, please, please don't ask why I've been staring at your chest._

"I do not _require_ inhalation and exhalation of air in order to function," Data answered calmly, as if I wasn't some kid prying into the details of his anatomy. "Nor do my speech functions rely upon breath control as yours do. However, I do breathe as a way to help regulate my core temperature, and matching respiration with another is not outside the realm of my capabilities. Let us attempt the piece again, your way."

It took a few times, and I had to really try not to laugh, not at Data, but because the situation seemed so absurd, but eventually we did manage to find some sort of cohesion, and by the end of our two-hour lesson, we'd connected enough that I was high on the sheer joy of playing music with him.

As if an internal alarm had sounded inside his head - and maybe it had - Data stopped the lesson at that point. "I must return to duty, Zoe," he told me. "If this time is acceptable to you, weekly meetings would be advisable."

He was asking me to give up my lazy weekend mornings, but I found that I couldn't even make a perfunctory objection. "If it's _really_ not an imposition," I said, "I'd like that."

"It is _really_ not," he assured, as he got up to leave.

"Data wait -" He turned, and waited. "When you play with other new musical partners…how do you find…"

" 'Meshy-ness'?" he supplied.

"Um. Yeah. I mean, yes."

"We often employ the use of a metronome. I will see you in class, Zoe."

I nodded, and muttered an embarrassed, "Thanks," as I loosened my bow. Once I had packed my cello and the padd with the lesson we'd covered, I hightailed it to the nearest 'lift, nearly whacking an older bald guy in the chest with my instrument as I entered. "Um, sorry," I said, adding a hasty, "sir" when I realized that I was in a turbo-lift with Captain Picard.

He merely nodded, then seemed to focus for a moment on my t-shirt, just as the 'lift stopped on one of the officers' decks. "Play on," he said, half-reading the quotation. "Indeed." And then he was gone.

My mother was still on duty when I got back to our quarters, so I called Dana on the com-system and asked her to come hang out while I had lunch. "You would not believe how I spent my morning," I began, once she'd arrived.

She took in my outfit and braided hair and sat cross-legged on the couch. "Let me just tell Josh that we're not gonna have time to play pirates today," she said.

And she was right.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43825.73**

**(Saturday, 29 October 2366, 09:26 hours, ship's time)**

"You've got to be kidding me!" I was shrieking at my mother, and I knew I shouldn't be, but I couldn't help it. "You cannot be one of our chaperones. You just can't." It was a week before our math tutorial's planned 'field trip' to Serenity Five, and we'd just learned which of our parents had volunteered to accompany us. "You hated being on tour with Dad." She'd only ever gone a couple of times, but the tension had been high both times.

My mother set her coffee mug on the table with the sort of precision placement that meant she was trying not to yell back at me. "We are not going 'on tour' with your father, Zoe. We are going on a school field trip - one, I recently discovered - that _you_ were instrumental in arranging."

"Why does that mean you have to go? It isn't enough that you dragged me away from my whole life and stuck me here with all these people who are perfect and nice all the time? Now you have to horn in on my activities, too?"

"You knew that two parents had to accompany the group, Zoe. T'vek's father had already volunteered. Commander Data requested one of the mothers for the second chaperone. Of the five of you, only three of you have mothers living aboard the ship, and Doctor Crusher can't take time away right now." She paused, looking at me with far less anger than I expected. "I'd hoped you might see it as a chance to spend time together without my duties interfering."

I wanted to stay mad at her, but if I'd argued that point she'd only have reminded me of my tendency to complain about her job. "I hate it when you're right," I grumped.

"Does this mean you'll refrain from whining about your mother being on your trip?"

"I'll consider it," I said. "At least once we leave. Until then, no promises. Although…"

She tilted her head at me in that I-know-you're-about-to-try-to-get-away-with-something way that all mothers have. "Yes?"

"Orchestra concerts are dressy occasions…and I haven't had a new outfit in forever." I said in my best too-casual voice.

"It always comes back to clothes. You know you have the right to use the replicator from time to time."

"Replicator clothes are wrong, Mom. They're all stretchy and shiny in the wrong places and… they're just _wrong_. Besides, you know I like vintage."

"And I suppose you've already done the research and discovered at least three boutiques within a reasonable distance of our hotel?"

"Four," I said smiling. I knew I'd won. "One specializes in shoes."

"Shoes, too?" My mother let her voice drip with melodramatic world-weariness.

"Mom, please. It's _all_ about the shoes." I glanced at the time displayed on our comm-console, and gulped down the rest of my pineapple juice. "Gotta go meet Data for my theory lesson. He really doesn't like it when I'm late." And I grabbed my cello, and escaped into the corridor.

**(=A=)**

"Data, can we play first and do theory after today?" I breezed as I entered the conference room where we usually met for my lesson. "I've been practicing the Bach piece, but I'm having a problem with the interval in the seco…." I stopped mid-word as I realized that Data wasn't the only person in the room. A blonde woman with lieutenant junior grade's pips on her collar and a clarinet in her hand was sitting in the chair the android usually used. We hadn't met, but I recognized her as the woman from Ten-Forward. The one who'd been waiting for him. "Did I miss a message rescheduling this lesson?"

"You did not," he assured me. "Zoe, this is Jenna D'Sora. Jenna, this is Zoe. I believe you will benefit from playing with her."

" _You're_ the cello prodigy Data's always talking about?" the woman said, her tone just this side of patronizing. "I expected someone older."

"I'm working on it," I said, focusing on the fastener of my gig bag. I kept my eyes averted while I pulled my bow out of its pocket, and then removed my cello from the main case. "Do you work with Data?" I asked, trying my best not to sound catty or jealous, and mentally scolding myself for being hurt. _He's just your teacher, Zoe, that's all._ But I couldn't help the slightly snide remark that slipped out, "I didn't expect you at _all._ He's never mentioned you." Never mind that Data never mentioned _anything_ that wasn't relevant to the lesson at hand, unless he was specifically asked.

Data was either unaware of the tension between me and the lieutenant, or was choosing to ignore it. "Jenna is a member of the security department," he explained. "We also play in the same chamber ensemble, but she often has difficulties finding cohesion with the group. I believe a smaller ensemble would help her learn to attain your -"

"Meshy-ness?" I asked, offering him a real smile.

"Exactly," he said.

Jenna added, in a tone that was a blend of sweetness and ice. "I'm not sure how playing with a student will help me, but Data insisted I try. Didn't you, honey?"

He looked from Jenna to me and then back to Jenna. His stance had changed slightly, as if he'd finally registered the less-than-positive vibe between me and his…girlfriend. "I did. I believe it will be beneficial for all of us."

I took my seat, remaining quiet as Data drew out his violin, tweaked the tuning, and played an open A. The coolest thing about playing music with him was that we never needed an electronic tuner or piano in order to tune. He was always on key, and I have an excellent ear. My own instrument was just a hair sharp, so I adjusted it until I was matching his pitch, then adjusted the rest of my strings in relation."

"You will need to transpose to Concert A, Jenna," he reminded his…girlfriend, but she merely nodded.

The three of us played together for about an hour, and we did manage to find some cohesion after a bit, though Jenna balked at using my breath-matching method, even after a metronome didn't work. "You're anticipating," I observed, when she came in early for the third time.

"Excuse me?"

"I do it, sometimes, still, too. You're either not actually counting the measure, or you're so concerned about coming in late that you're anticipating the beat and coming in early."

"Data…?" she turned to him for validation.

"Zoe is correct, Jenna. You are making your entrance early." He turned it into a teaching moment. "How do you correct your anticipation, Zoe?"

"Tapping your foot works. It's…amateurish, but it helps you feel the beat. And you can stop once you've learned the correct timing. Otherwise…count each fraction of a beat…like when you learn basic rhythm in school? Not just, one-two-three-four, but one-ee-and-a, two-ee-and-a…like that."

"Thanks," she said grudgingly. "I'll try that." There was a beep, and she got up to go. "I'm due back on duty," she said, packing her clarinet into its case. "Data..?"

"Zoe's lesson is typically two hours long," he stated. "We cover theory as well as application."

"Oh, well…I'll see you for dinner?"

"I will meet you at eighteen-hundred hours," he replied.

She brushed a kiss across his cheek and left the room, though she paused to throw me a frosty glare before the door closed behind her.

I waited a good thirty seconds after she had disappeared before I spoke. "Data, if you need to go, we can discuss my theory homework next week," I offered lamely, feeling suddenly awkward.

"I do not," he said, "need to go. I have scheduled the customary two-hour block of time, and I will happily extend that time by an additional hour, if you wish. Shall we continue?"

I shrugged. "I guess."

"Perhaps I should have informed you that Jenna would be joining us," he observed, as he put down the violin, and reached for a padd.

I set my cello on its side, and reached for my own device. "Whatever. Can you please just check my work? I kind of got caught up in playing the Bach instead of analyzing it the way you wanted."

If he noticed the change in my attitude, Data didn't say anything. Instead, he patiently worked through my analysis of the harmonics of the Bach prelude in question, having me play some of the sections I'd been fuzzy on, and demonstrating one particularly complicated passage on his violin. Even so, we finished before the second hour was up, and I began to pack my things.

"We have enough time for another piece," Data pointed out. "Do you not wish to continue?"

"No, I don't think so," I said. "I don't think your girlfriend realized how much time you'd been spending with me, and I'm certain she's not thrilled about it."

"She did not say anything," he observed.

"She didn't have to," I retorted. "Is she going to be joining us next week?"

"We will be en route to Serenity Five at this time next week, Zoe."

"When we get back, then?"

"Her presence here was beneficial to you both. Is there a problem?"

"Not exactly." My cello was back in its bag, and I let it rest on the floor, crossing my hands over the encased scroll. "Studying theory with you…playing music with you…it's more like spending time with a friend than taking a class. You don't treat me like a kid. You treat me just like any other musician. Having Jenna here…kind of forced me to remember that _am_ just your student."

I don't know what possessed me to tell him all that, but he seemed to take it in, process it, and form a response, all in the space of a breath or two. "Zoe, you are correct. You are my student. However, unless I am mistaken, that does not preclude you from also being my friend. I would be pleased to be counted among yours."

I couldn't help the cheesy grin I _knew_ was spreading across my face. "Thanks, Data." I said. I moved toward the door, but stopped to add, "Would you please tell Jenna I'm sorry I was rude to her?"

He tilted his head slightly. "If you are sincere in your wish to apologize, our wind ensemble is playing in Ten-Forward at twenty-hundred hours. If your schoolwork is complete, and your mother approves, I would appreciate your attendance." He waited a beat, then added in a tone that I _swear_ held a hint of teasing, "As a friend."

I laughed. "I'll ask her," I said. And then I really did have to get going.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43826.16**

**(Saturday, 29 October 2366, 13:11 hours, ship's time)**

"Hey, T'vek, you busy tonight?" I breezed over the com-channel, flashing a too-sweet grin at the screen.

My half-Vulcan/half -Betazoid male-friend-of-interest arched an eyebrow at me. "That depends, Zoe. Will you proofread my English essay before we engage in whatever nefarious activity you have concocted?"

"Nefarious?" I pretended to be shocked and insulted. "Nefarious. I'm never nefarious." I waited a beat. "I _am_ sometimes devious, but that's a trait you likely appreciate since you share it…"

"Zoe…"

"Yes, I will proof your essay, although I should point out that the computer system includes spell-check and grammar-check functions."

"But the computer does not have your…unique…turn of phrase."

"T'vek…"

"What is it that you wish me to do?"

"Data has invited me to attend a concert of his woodwind ensemble this evening in Ten-Forward. I couldn't possibly go without a suitable escort."

"I'll go, but I'm giving up a rousing game of tri-d chess with my father, so you'll owe me a favor."

It was my turn to arch a brow at him. Two, actually. "You mean, aside from proofing your paper?"

"Mmhmm." No one under the age of thirty should have been able to put that much seduction into a couple syllables of non-verbal noise. Actually, I'm pretty sure no one _over_ the age of thirty should have been allowed to, either.

"Name it." I didn't quite make those words a dare. Not really.

"The favor is that I don't want you to invite any of our other classmates to join us. If I go with you, it has to be an actual date."

I couldn't help blushing, and not only because I'd had no intention of asking our other friends. "A date, hmm? Well, T'vek, if it's a date, there'd better be flowers and chocolate involved." I was teasing, mostly.

"You drive a hard bargain, Zoe."

"I learned from the best. Pick me up fifteen minutes before?"

"I will see you then."

**(=A=)**

T'vek was nothing, if not prompt. He signaled at our door at precisely fifteen minutes before the hour, and offered me a replicated sunflower when I invited him in. "For you, m'lady," he said, an insouciant grin on his face.

"Did you use telepathy on me?" I accused half in jest, "Because sunflowers are my favorite."

"I'm not actually that good at telepathy," he confessed while I stuck the flower in a quickly-replicated bud vase. "If we were touching, I could sense your surface thoughts, and I'm a bit of an empath with people I'm close to, but when it comes to either Vulcan or Betazoid mental skills…"

"You got kinda screwed?" I asked, smiling.

"Pretty much."

"Did you get the Vulcan ears, at least?" I asked, staring at the shaggy black hair that he wore pretty long, especially by starship standards.

"You can look for yourself," he said, and tilted his head toward me.

Suddenly nervous, I shook my head. "Maybe later. Don't wanna be late."

"We won't be," he assured. "But we need to leave now."

We left, and we weren't late, but the whole time we were in the turbolift, my eyes kept straying to where the tips of his ears would be.

**(=A=)**

Ten-Forward was arranged for an informal concert, when we arrived, with rows of tables pushed close together, forming a half circle facing a small stage. Chairs and music stands were waiting, but there was no sign of Data or Jenna, or any of the other musicians.

"T'vek! Zoe! Over here!" Wesley Crusher's voice hailed us from across the room. "I saved seats for you both."

"Please tell me he has a date?" I whispered to T'vek.

"He's with that blonde girl from our lit class. Anna? Annette? Something like that."

I gave T'vek a look that clearly conveyed my assumption that he knew the girl's name, and was just trying to show how uninterested in her he was. "Annette. She's a year ahead of us, but she's okay, I guess."

We wove through the people and tables, and joined our classmates. "Thanks for saving seats," T'vek said, and I was glad he spoke, because I'd have sounded much grumpier.

"It's no problem," Annette said. "Zoe, I'm so glad you're here. Are those new boots?"

"I finally broke down and used the replicator," I confessed, adding, "I like your earrings." It was true. I mean, they were tiny pearl studs, and way too prim-and-proper for me, but they suited Annette perfectly, and I suspected they were real.

"Thank you," she said.

I heard T'vek and Wes exchanging whatever passed for greetings among guys, as I settled into my chair. Our table was round, and Annette and I were side by side, with Wes next to her and T'vek on my other side. Cozy enough, but not ideal for our first real date. A server came by, and T'vek whispered, "Do you trust me?" into my ear.

"To order dessert?" I asked. "Absolutely."

I heard him say something about frozen hot chocolate with two straws and two spoons, but then the lights dimmed a bit, and the musicians walked out. Jenna, I noticed, had changed to civilian attire, though Data was still in uniform. Idly, I wondered if he even owned normal clothes.

I don't know if the wind ensemble had improved since the teen brunch months before, or if I'd merely not been paying attention then - but I do know that our dessert was served mid-way through their first number, a swing piece that relied on heavy syncopation.

The chocolate was creamy and cold, part drink, part spoonable dessert, and I was glad T'vek had assumed I wouldn't mind sharing, because it would have been far too rich to eat on my own. Our hands kept brushing against each other, our spoons nearly colliding a couple of times, and I found myself caught between staring at him and focusing on the music.

After about forty minutes, there was a break, and Annette and I excused ourselves to the restroom. "You and T'vek make a cute couple," she said, as we waited in line because even on state-of-the-art starships there are never enough stalls in the women's restroom.

"Do we?" I asked, feeling my face go hot. "We're good friends, but…"

"But it's your first real date?" she asked. "Same for me and Wes, but you and T'vek seem better matched."

"What do you mean?" I asked the other girl.

She looked at her shoes for a long moment, before meeting my eyes and explaining. "I'm not in that special math tutorial. I don't have Starfleet ambitions. And Wes has bridge duty."

"Oh, Annette…" Suddenly, she wasn't just some girl from my lit class, but an actual person. "First, even though Wes is a little…single-minded, he's really an okay guy. And second? Just because he wants to be an officer doesn't mean he can't have friends who have completely separate interests. I mean…T'vek doesn't play any musical instruments, and performing is all I've ever wanted to do, but we're still here together."

She went into a stall, then, and a bit later it was my turn, but she was waiting for me in the corridor, and we walked back to our tables together. "Thanks for the pep-talk, Zoe," she said before we rejoined our dates.

"No problem," I said, smiling at her. "Look, Dana and I are getting together tomorrow night to work on that essay together. You should join us."

"Thanks," she said. "I might."

We took our seats just in time for the second half of the concert, which was more classical fare, and less swing and jazz. At the end, Data set his clarinet aside, and reached under his seat, for his violin. "My fellow musicians have agreed to a slight departure from our usual format this evening," he said. "This piece was originally written for the cello, and is from the third movement of Bach's Concerto in D. It is most often transposed into the key of C Major," he explained, "so that it can be played on a single string of a violin. The rest of our ensemble will be providing harmony."

As Data began to play the Bach's 'Air on a G String,' I reached for T'vek's hand. "I love this piece," I whispered in his ear.

T'vek's response was to drape his arm around my shoulders, leaning close to whisper back, "Can you play it, on your cello?"

"Not like that," I responded. I'd mentioned the piece in several of my Saturday meetings with Data, and was certain he had played it _just_ for me, but I wasn't sure why. We were both quiet for the rest of the piece, but his arm stayed comfortably around me.

After the lights had been turned back up, and the applause had faded to nothing, all four of us moved as a group to thank Data and the other musicians for their performance. The android was gracious, thanking all of us for coming. Wesley made a point of introducing him to Annette, and the three of them chatted softly for a while.

"Zoe, I want you to meet someone," T'vek murmured in my ear.

"Give me a sec? I have to do something first."

He moved slightly away from me, and I approached Jenna. "Hi," I said softly.

"Zoe." Her tone was cool, but not actually rude.

"I enjoyed your performance," I said politely. "But I also wanted to apologize for being rude to you…before."

She softened, and even smiled. "I wasn't exactly nice to you, either," she admitted. "And I'm supposed to be the adult here. Shall we start over?"

I nodded. "I'd like that." I stuck out my hand, "Lieutenant D'Sora? I'm Zoe Harris, one of Data's students. It's nice to meet you."

Her smile widened, "Nice to meet you, Zoe. Call me Jenna."

Another officer called her away at that moment, but that wasn't an issue, because T'vek had returned to my side. "What was that about?" he asked, directly in my ear.

"I'll explain later," I said. "There was someone you wanted me to meet?"

"Yes." He led me through the mingling concert-goers to one of the musicians who had remained on the stage, and was packing her instrument. "Mother…"

The flautist looked up, her Vulcan features softer than most, with a warmth in her expression that truly surprised me. "Stevek," she greeted, and I made a mental note to ask my friend about his name. "I am pleased that you attended this evening."

"I always come when you're playing," he pointed out. "Mother, this is Zoe Harris. She's in the math tutorial with Data, and is studying music theory with him. Zoe, this is my mother, Lt. Commander T'rella Mairaj."

"My son speaks of you often," she said, nodding politely at me. "I am pleased to finally meet you." The corners of her mouth turned up in the merest hint of a smile. "Perhaps when you children return from Serenity Five you and your mother will join us for a meal."

"I'd like that," I said. "And I'm sure my mother would, too. It's nice to meet you."

T'vek spoke up then, saving me from figuring out what else to say, "Mother, Zoe and I were going to go look at the fish in the aquarium before returning to quarters. Is that acceptable?"

"One hundred hours," was all the woman said, but I got the feeling there was an undertone I wasn't really perceiving.

To my credit, I held my tongue until we had arrived at room that the science department had turned into an aquarium. Once we were inside the space, which was lit by watery blue light at that time of the ship's night, I couldn't wait to ask, "Stevek? How do you get T'vek out of Stevek?"

He grinned his roguish grin at me, and captured my hand. "Stevek's my real name…my mother insisted on a Vulcan one. T'vek is a character in a series of Betazoid holo-novels about a pirate who sails the Opal Sea. I liked the name, and it was close enough to my own." He rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand, and lowered his voice. "Besides, apostrophes are cool."

I had to laugh at that. "So they are," I agreed. "Makes me wish I used an umlaut or…something." I meant it to be flippant, but my voice caught on the last word, mainly because T'vek was staring intently into my face. "What?"

"Are you crushing on Commander Data?" he asked.

I blinked at him. "No. He's helping with music. I admire him, and we're…we're becoming friends, I guess. Why?"

"The way you reacted during his violin solo."

I laughed softly. "I was surprised, is all. I wasn't…sometimes he just seems to get me." I paused, using my free hand to do what I'd been thinking about all evening: brush his hair back and see that yes, he did have Vulcan points to his ears. "Not as much as you get me, though," I added softly.

"Good."

"Good?"

"Mmhmm. Cuz it means I can do this."

And he kissed me.

His lips were warm against mind, and his hands were hot on the sides of my face, and when we broke the kiss, I stared into his dark, dark, eyes. "That was nice."

"Only nice?"

"Mm. Wanna try again?"

It turned out that he did.

It also turned out that we stayed in the aquatics lab until about ten minutes before the one AM curfew issued by T'vek's mother.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story (Crush) spans seasons three and four of Star Trek: The Next Generation. While I have tried to stay relatively close to canon when possible, my one huge deviation is that Jenna and Data are already dating as of this chapter, rather than their attempt near the end of season four, as was written and aired. There are a few reasons for this, including that I wanted to give Zoe a reason to be jealous, but I didn't want to bring in more OCs. I have enough with the kids and Zoe's family. 
> 
> The prelude Zoe refers to is from Bach's Unaccompanied Cello Suite Number 1, in G Major (BWV 1007). 
> 
> Air on the G String is August Wilhelmj's arrangement of the second movement in Johann Sebastian Bach's Orchestral Suite No. 3 in D major, BWV 1068. The title comes from violinist Wilhelmj's late 19th century arrangement of the piece for violin and piano. By transposing the key of the piece from its original D major to C major and transposing the melody down an octave, Wilhelmj was able to play the piece on only one string of his violin, the G string.
> 
> Later, a spurious story was put about that the melody was always intended to be played on the G string alone.
> 
> It should be noted that Annette is technically a canon character. She's one of the girls we see with Wesley in a few group shots in early TNG episodes (when they didn't pretend he was the only teenager), and she's named in a couple of the early novels.


	5. A Mother-Daughter Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interlude: Zoe and her mother discuss the former's first date with T'vek

**Stardate 43828.42**

**(Sunday, 30** **October 2366, 09:00 hours, ship's time)**

"Good morning, Sunshine!" my mother sing-songed into almost directly into my sleep-addled brain. When you were up until two in the morning, after a full day of music lessons, a concert, and your first kiss from a boy you really like, a doorway eight feet away totally counts as 'almost.' "Rise and shine! Up and at 'em!"

"You are evil, and have no soul," I grumbled as good-naturedly as I could, mustering just enough strength to fire a throw-pillow at the woman who was exuding obnoxious perkiness. I missed, and she laughed, lobbing it back toward my bed.

"So, I've been told," she agreed amiably. "Listen, daughter-of-mine, I have the day off. Get up, hit the shower, and let's go have a mother-daughter breakfast in Ten-Forward and then get pre-field-trip mani-pedis.

That actually got me to sit up. "The really long kind, with the hot stone calf massage?" I asked, shoving my tangled hair out of my face.

"Yep."

"Can I get black nail polish?"

"They're your hands," she agreed. She probably knew I wouldn't really have my nails painted black. Well, not my _finger_ nails. "Though personally, I think a rich purple would be much more interesting."

"Mmm." I pretended to think it over. "Give me fifteen minutes?"

It was actually more like twenty-three minutes later that we were back in Ten-Forward, where the tables had been restored to their more common configuration. We were sitting at the same table where I'd been ordered to request admission to Commander Data's math tutorial, except this time, we both had coffee. Okay, Mom's was black and brewed double-strong, while mine was a frothy mix of coffee and steamed chocolate milk, but still…

"You were out pretty late last night, kiddo," mom observed.

"I was in by curfew."

"Yes. Yes, you were. Thank you for that. Was it a good date? I noticed a flower on your nightstand."

"I heard someone at this table fed T'vek the information that sunflowers were a personal favorite," I shot back, hiding my blush behind my coffee mug. "But yeah…it was good. The dessert was nice. The music was nice. The kissing was nice." I was kind of hoping she wouldn't pick up on that last part. I was also kind of hoping she would.

"Kissing?"

"Yeah, you know, after the concert and all the booze we totally made out. Even got yelled at for sucking face in a turbo-lift."

For a second, it seemed like she almost believed me. Almost. "Nice try, Zoe."

I shrugged. "You woke me up before I was ready. I deserved a little payback." I sipped more of my mocha, then put the mug back on the table, and fiddled with the spinach and mushroom omelet that was rapidly cooling on my plate. "He's a good kisser, actually," I said softly.

"He was respectful?"

"He was nice. It was…nice."

"Just nice?"

"Really nice," I said. "Even kind of awesome." I waited a bit, then asked, "Are you okay with this? I mean, you're not going to go all over-protective and declare I'm not allowed to date til I'm thirty, are you? I mean, we're locked on a hermetically-sealed starship, and it's not like there are rabbles to be roused, or anything."

My mother proved just how cool she could be. "I like T'vek," she said. "I think you're a little young for anything serious, but your teen years are meant for experimentation. As long as your schoolwork doesn't suffer, and you keep me informed of where you're going and what you're up to, you can date."

"No list of rules?"

"Do we need to go through all that?"

"I don't know. Maybe?"

"Fine." She thought a minute. "No unsupervised time with him in our quarters. If he's visiting, I want you to have other friends around. No late nights if you have classes the next day. No 'sucking face' in turbo-lifts - this is still a starship, after all - and if things get serious, I'd like you to talk to me, but I know I can't force it."

"Serious? How serious?"

"Zoe…" Why was it that everyone in my life had their own way of making my name convey a thousand things?

"Is this the bit where you tell me what happens when two people of compatible species get up close and personal without taking precautions? Because I've been through all the mandatory sex-ed classes, and Gran gave me The Talk when I was eleven."

My mother gave me her best mock-scowl. "I'll spare you the tab-A/slot-B discussion," she said. "And just remind you that things that seemed gross when you were ten probably won't anymore." She studied her mostly-eaten grapefruit with sudden intensity before adding in a softer tone, "Don't be in a rush to grow up, Zoe. You can always go forward, but you can't go back."

I held back the snarky comment I would have made any other day, and said instead, "I know this, Mom, really. I can't promise I won't do anything stupid, but I promise to try not to give you a reason to worry. Okay?"

That sentence earned me a rueful grin. "Worry has been part of the deal since the day you were born, Zoificus. It's what parents do."

I smiled. "'Zoificus…' I think I like that. Makes me sound like a goddess or something. Oh, before I forget, T'vek introduced me to his mother last night - did you know she plays the flute? - and she said - T'rella, I mean - that we should all get together for 'a meal' when we're back from Serenity Five."

"Sounds like a lovely idea," my mother said. "Now, finish up, so we can hit the spa before alpha shift goes off-duty."

**(=A=)**

A couple of hours later, I was sprawled on my bed, dressed casually in an old t-shirt I'd stolen from my father – from the bookstore at The Martian Academy, actually - and a really comfy pair of sweatpants. Annette and Dana were due to arrive for an informal lit essay write-in and I had a feeling at least one of them would demand details about what happened after the concert last night.

I wasn't wrong.

"Details, Zoe, details," Dana said by way of a greeting as she breezed into the main room of the quarters I shared with my mother. "Annette said T'vek had his arm around you all night?"

Annette followed Dana into the room, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry," she said. "She badgered me the whole way here in the 'lift."

I just grinned. "Just wait 'til you and Josh finally get together," I teased. "See how patient I am. And honestly, you might ask Annette what it's like to date the ship's official wunderkind."

Dana turned to the other girl. "You and Wesley Crusher?" she asked.

Annette blushed, but on her the pink was pretty instead of just awkward looking - at least, to me. "He's brought me to a few ship's functions."

We congregated at the dining table in the center of the room. My padd was already there, along with a tray of fruit juices and different snacks. "Last night wasn't the first time?" I asked. "I had the impression it was."

"It was, and it wasn't."

"First real date?" I asked, and Dana was nodding knowledgably. I slid into a chair. "He seemed to really pay attention to you."

Annette grinned, "He did, but…I'm surprised you even noticed. _You_ were 'paying attention' to a certain shaggy-haired fellow."

It was my turn for blushing again. "Yeah, well…"

"And you two disappeared right after the concert. One minute we were all talking to Data, the next minute, you'd gone." She narrowed her eyes at me. "Where exactly _did_ you go?"

"Gee, officer," I quipped. "It was late; it was dark; we'd had chocolate." I smiled sweetly at her. "He _swore_ he was of legal age."

"Chocolate?" Dana asked. "He gave you chocolate?"

"Yes. Well, no. He sort of…we shared a frozen hot chocolate during the concert, is all."

"Mmhmm." Dana could do a skeptical tone as well as any of us. "And after the event in question, Ms. Harris?"

"We went to the aquarium and looked at the Turkalian jelly-fish, and talked a while, and he kissed me, and then we spent a few minutes playing with the singing rays in the tide pool exhibit."

Annette and Dana shared a significant look, before the former said, "Told you they made out. I knew it was destined as soon as Wes pointed out they were sharing a single dessert."

"People share dessert all the time," I felt compelled to say. "Besides, have you tasted that frozen hot chocolate? You'd die from the richness of it if you tried to eat the whole thing yourself."

But my friends didn't care about that. What they cared about was made explicit by Dana's next barrage of questions, "So, is he a good kisser? Was there tongue? Did you get to see his ears? Did you kiss him back?"

"Yes, not the first time, yes, and of course," I said, answering the questions in order. "And yes, he held my hand all the way home, and yes, he kissed me good night at my door, and yes, we'll probably be disgustingly lovey-dovey during the entire field trip just to annoy you." The last bit was meant in jest, but then I realized. "Or actually, maybe not, because we'll each have a parent there."

Annette and Dana shared another look, before Annette suggested, "Maybe we should actually work on our essays now."

"Good idea," I said.

The three of us worked in companionable silence with occasional bursts of noise as we read bits of our writing to each other, and helped to smooth out each other's phrasing. After about two hours, we are all satisfied, and our work was saved to our respective padds.

Once it was obvious the homework session had ended, Dana and I exchanged a look, and I asked, "Annette, you never told us. Is _Wes_ was any good at kissing?"

Annette wouldn't meet either of our eyes for a long time. "I don't know," she said. "I like him. He keeps inviting me to things, and we did come close to a kiss last night…but it hasn't happened."

Dana and I were at a loss for what to say, until I suggested, "Try chocolate, and a trip to the aquarium."

Annette smiled at that. "I might," she said. "I just might."

After my friends had gone, I got the notification that said T'vek had sent me _his_ essay, which I'd promised to proofread. He was actually a decent writer – better at precise description than I was, when he wanted to be - but I made a couple of phrasing suggestions before sending it back. I got a text message in reply. _Thanks,_ he'd written. _And thanks for last night. My mother says she approves. See you tomorrow._

I grinned to myself, then went to my mother's bedroom. She was engrossed in a novel, but put her padd aside so we could chat. "Sit," she said, patting the edge of her bed.

I sat. "Were you listening to us earlier?" I asked.

"Not really," she assured, reaching to brush my hair away from my face. "Mostly, I was just pleased that you have girlfriends, Zoe. I never did, when I was your age."

"Really?" I asked. I'm not sure why that surprised me.

"Really," my mother said. "Most of my friends were boys, and most of my friends are men even now."

"Is that why you and Dad separated? Because he couldn't deal with you having male friends?"

"Maybe a little," my mother agreed. "But having a long-distance relationship, even with video communications and faster-than-light travel is still taxing, and we have wildly different interests. We grew apart, and realized that if we wanted to remain friends, we couldn't stay married to each other." She paused, took a breath then asked, "You know it has nothing to do with you, don't you?"

I did, actually. "Yeah. I know that. Well, now I do. Last Spring, not so much. Part of me kind of wishes we all lived together at Grandma's farm on Centaurus, or at the beach house, but most of the time I'm aware enough to notice that you're both happier now then you were when we were always waiting for you to come home." I waited a beat, then added, this time in a teasing tone. "But I _still_ have zero interest in Starfleet, so don't think that just because I'm not grumbling about being here anymore that I'm not itching to leave."

Yet again, my mother surprised me. "I still think," she said, "that you haven't really given it a chance. Not everyone ends up serving on ships." I wrinkled my nose, but she continued. "Nevertheless, it's pretty obvious that you're going to have to figure out a path that's uniquely yours. I can't wait to see where it leads."

I smiled, and hugged my mother. "Me either," I agreed. "I'm going to bed now."

"'Night, Zoe."

I paused in the doorway. "What? I've been demoted from Zoificus?" But then I shook my head. "'Night, Mom."

 

 


	6. I'm Going to Serenity Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 teenagers, 3 adults (one of whom is an android), 2 days, 1 Starfleet runabout. Zoe and her friends go on a field trip to Serenity Five...

**Stardate 43845.66**

**(Saturday, 5 th November 2366, 10:03 hours, ship's time)**

**Aboard the _U.S.S. Ontario_ runabout**

Five teenagers. Three adults (one of whom is an android). Two days in space. One runabout. It was the perfect setup for a really bad joke, or possibly the premise of a twenty-first century situation comedy. Either way, no one would have expected the reality of the situation to include - roughly two hours after we left the _Enterprise -_ the first, inevitable utterance of, "I'm bored."

It was Josh who said it, but we were all thinking it.

My mother was up in the cockpit with Commander Data, taking a turn as co-pilot, or I'm sure she'd have offered a suggestion. Instead it was Kenash - T'vek's father - who offered, "The replicator has the pattern for a tri-d chess set. Would anyone care to play?"

I looked up from the corner of the bench seat where I had been pretending to read one of the books I'd downloaded to my padd. "I think chess is T'vek's game…"

"Don't you play, Zoe?"

I had to laugh at that. "Me? Chess? Way too structured and organized for my tastes, Mr. Mairaj. I mean, unless you really want to see the Kamikaze Kid at work?"

"It's Kenash, Zoe," T'vek's father corrected mildly. "Perhaps my son will do me the honor?"

T'vek joined his father at the center table in the runabout _Amazon_ 's main compartment. "One game, Father, but that doesn't help everyone else find something to do."

Josh slid off his bench seat - on the opposite bulkhead from mine - and sprawled on the floor. "Co-ed, naked, multi-species Twister," he suggested. "We should play that."

"I don't think we have enough variance for the multi-species version," I shot back at him. "I mean, if one of us spins and gets 'left tentacle, chartreuse' we're kinda screwed."

"Spoilsport," he groused back, mostly teasing.

"Bratling," I countered.

"Children, children, please…" Dana sing-songed from yet another bench. She wasn't the biggest fan of the oh-so-sophisticated banter Josh and I often descended into.

Josh pretended to sleep, then, and I went back not-reading my book. Dana was also reading, or pretending to, I noticed, and Wesley was... "Wesley Crusher, are you actually doing _homework_?"

The boy looked up at me, eyes wide. "We do have assignments due when we get home."

"Yeah, but we also have an even longer trip to get back home."

"Data agreed that if my assignments were complete I could take a shift as copilot," Wes admitted. "I am an acting ensign, after all."

"And we all know it," muttered Josh from where he was still stretched out on the carpet, continuing, "Because you tell us at every opportunity." He appended a good-natured, "Twerp," to that.

"Twerp?" Wes asked. "Twerp? That's the best you can do?"

I set my padd aside. Suddenly, things were interesting. "He has a point, Josh. That's hardly the best insult you could come up with."

"Oh, like you could do better?"

"Actually, I _could_ ," I drawled. "But some of us were brought up with better manners than you generally exhibit. Malapert."

"Malapert?" Wes asked?

"Look it up," I suggested, turning back to Josh.

"Hoyden," he fired at me, actually sitting up.

"Better," I said. "Overweening."

"Elf-skinned flax-wench," he said.

I got up off the bench and took a step toward him, even as T'vek and his father remained focused - too focused - on their chess game. "Mad-brained miscreant."

Josh got up as well, standing with his arms akimbo. We were literally tossing insults over Wes's head at this point. "Cankerous, milk-livered harpy!"

"Pribbling, plume-plucked _pignut_!" I shouted, which - big surprise - drew the attention of T'vek's father as well as my mother and Data.

"I think that's enough, you two," Kenash said.

"WHAT is going on here?" my mother asked, as she and Data joined us from the cockpit. Data didn't say anything, just pinned each of us - first me, then Josh, then T'vek, Dana and Wes - with his eyes. That reaction from him was actually worse than the reactions of either of the parents.

"We were bored," Josh explained.

"And things got a little loud, I guess," I added.

"A little?" my mother asked in that pointed way all parents seem to have.

"A lot," I said. I wasn't exactly contrite, but I did soften my tone.

"I think," my mother said in her voice-of-infinite-patience, the one generally reserved for when she's forcing herself not to kill me, "that if Kenash and T'vek can suspend their game, we should all have lunch. Data, will you join us?"

"We are out of the shipping lanes and the runabout is on autopilot," he responded. "I would be delighted."

My mother arranged the seating, of course, placing me between herself and Data, and Josh on the other side of her, and next to Kenash, so we couldn't easily see each other. The food was basic - sandwiches, fruit, and chocolate pudding - and the conversation was stilted, until, finally, Data broke the silence.

"Zoe," he began. "I could not help but notice that the insults you and Josh were using were extremely archaic. May I ask where you both learned them? Is the use of such language a growing trend among teenagers?"

I nearly choked on an ice cube trying not to laugh. "Um…no trend," I said. "I don't think. I don't know about Josh, but back home I was a theatre geek. Our drama teacher gave us a whole list of Shakespearean insults. One of my friends actually created code to generate really good epithets."

"And you, Josh?"

"Magnetic poetry," he said. "Shakespeare Wit Kit." He leaned around my mother, "Do you have copy of the code, Zoe?"

"I might," I said, arching an eyebrow. We both dissolved into giggles after that, though.

"And peace descends on our happy band of travelers," T'vek intoned, which only made everyone else - except Data - join in the laughter.

Of course, an hour after the meal, the original problem had reared its ugly head once more. "I'm bored," Dana said softly. "And I don't want to watch you and Josh hurling insults back and forth any more today."

"Mom, have you got any awesome boredom-relieving ideas that do not involve doing all our homework right now?" I called across the cabin. Wes was sitting in the cockpit now, and Data was losing - losing! - to T'vek's father in another game of chess.

"Mmm," my mother said, "I'm going to Serenity Five, and I'm bringing an apple."

I stared at my mother for a moment, then realized what she was doing. "I'm going to Serenity Five," I said, "And I'm bringing an apple and a banana?" I made it a question, because even though this was a very old game, our version of it isn't always alphabetical. Instead, you have to figure out the pattern.

"No," my mother said. "You're not. Dana?"

"I'm going to Serenity Five," she said, "And I'm bringing an apple, and a book."

"Welcome aboard," Mom said, "T'vek?"

"I'm going to Serenity Five, and I'm bringing an apple, a book, and a chair," he guessed.

"Nope. You're stranded with Zoe. Josh. You're up."

"I'm going to Serenity Five, and I'm bringing an apple, a book, and a padd," Josh suggested.

"Welcome aboard to you, too." My mother took her own turn, adding a spoon. Then she turned to me again, "Zoe?"

"What, Kenash and Data don't have to play?" I teased, but they were absorbed with their game. "Fine. I'm going to Serenity Five, and I'm bringing an apple, a book, a padd, a spoon, and an umbrella."

"Welcome aboard, kiddo," she said, smiling. "Dana?"

"Oh!" she said. "I thought I knew the pattern before, but it's not what I thought." She thought for a second. "I'm going to Serenity Five and I'm bringing an apple, a book, a padd, cherries, an umbrella, and a balloon."

By now, of course, the pattern was obvious, T'vek and Josh both completed their next rounds, and mom did as well. I think we were up to about twenty-seven things in our list when Kenash finally said, "Checkmate. Great game, Data. I look forward to playing with you again."

"As do I," our tutor said.

The end of their game was enough to distract Josh, who lost the thread of what everyone was bringing. We played another round of "I'm going to…" which Kenash and Data joined in, though I was surprised by the fact that Data didn't pick up the pattern any faster than the rest of us, but of course, with his memory he trounced us in the recall department. After that, we did agree to spend a couple of hours doing homework before gathering at the center table for dinner.

After dinner, we found ourselves still sitting around the central table, though the adults had dispersed - Data back to the cockpit with Kenash joining him, and my mother to the sleeping quarters for a sonic shower and some downtime - but this time it was Josh who suggested the game. "Let's play truth or dare," he said.

"Let's not," Dana said. "It only ever leads to people being upset, and anyway, there's nothing really daring we can do on the runabout."

"We could take over the ship, declare ourselves pirates, and demand to parley with the next interesting vessel we pass," Josh suggested.

"That would be mutiny," Wesley pointed out.

"Actually, it would only be mutiny for you," I corrected. "The rest of us are civilians. It would only be a hostile takeover."

"Poker?" T'vek said. He had left the table and was scrolling through the replicator's entertainment menu. "Or a video entertainment?"

"Cards, maybe…but not poker." I crossed the room to join him. "What other card games are there…?" Together we flipped through the options. "This one," I said. "It's completely silly which makes it great fun." The replicator spit out the appropriate deck of cards, and we returned it to the table.

"Okay," I said, "The person with the most experience playing goes first. I used to play with my father and some of the orchestra members. Anyone else?"

"I've played it," Josh said. "Once or twice."

"So I go first. T'vek, you'll take first deal?" He dealt three cards to each of us, as I explained, "It's the easiest game ever. We start with the basic rules…draw a card, play a card… and then just follow the instructions," I said.

"How do you win?" Wes asked.

"At the moment, Wesley, you can't." Josh seemed a bit too gleeful as he said this.

"What?"

Dana, who had snagged the rule card, explained, "Until someone plays a goal card, there's no way to win."

We played the card game with much laughter for a couple of hours. Then my mother and Kenash came to usher us all toward bed - the boys in the port cabin and the girls in the starboard one. Data said as he didn't need sleep he'd be working and keeping an eye on the runabout all night.

Dana and my mother and I ended up chatting about favorite slumber party games as we got ready to sleep, and pretty quickly, they were both off to dreamland, but I set the screen on my padd to half-illumination and read for a while before I drifted off.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43846.89**

**(Sunday, 6 November 2366, 02:47 hours, ship's time)**

If the first day of our journey to Serenity Five was marked by boredom, the second was marked by a lack of sleep, at least for me and T'vek, for I was awakened in the wee hours of the ship's morning by my padd, which had been open to a book as I'd fallen asleep, vibrating near my pillow.

Groggily, I tapped the screen, only to see that my friend had engaged a messaging program we generally only used in order to have clandestine conversations during classes. _Wait, friend? Was T'vek just a friend, or was he my boyfriend now? We'd never really discussed specifics._ The message was brief: a request for me to meet him in the access corridor between the port and starboard sleeping quarters.

I tapped back a reply, and slid out of bed as gently as I could, then tiptoed across the room on bare feet, using the glow of the padd's screen to light my way.

The sound of the door sliding open made me freeze in place for a long second, and I strained my ears, trying to discern whether my mother or my friend Dana had noticed it. Both their breathing remained even, so I left the room, freezing again as the door slid shut behind me.

T'vek was in the specified corridor, a cushion beneath him, his back against the bulkhead. He looked up at me, grinning at the sight of what I wore as pajamas: an ancient Hard Rock Café: Risa t-shirt and a pair of coffee-colored yoga pants. "Join me," he invited, patting the cushion.

I padded the few steps across the corridor and sat down next to him. "One comment about my choice of sleeping attire…" I threatened in a low whisper, but he knew I didn't really mean it.

He'd brought a bright red emergency blanket with him, and he threw it over both our laps, telling me, with his mouth very near my ear, "Our parents and classmates won't be able to hear us - the sleeping quarters are fitted with privacy filters - but Data might, if we're too loud."

I kept my voice low as well. "So what's the plan? Are we taking over the ship so Josh can have his pirate dreams come true, or were you thinking that a late night make-out session is in order?"

In answer, he reached for my hand, twining his fingers through mine. "I couldn't sleep," he confessed, "And you've said more than once that you're fairly nocturnal, so I took a chance that you might like to chat for a while. Though your idea of a make-out session does have some merit."

"Some?" I teased softly, squeezing his hand. "Some boyfriend you are! _Some_ merit?"

"Boyfriend?" he asked. I was expecting him to smirk, but he was quiet, even pensive.

"Are you?" I asked back. "I mean we haven't really talked about it…" I blushed at looked away. "I'm sorry." I said. "I should go."

"Never thought you'd be the type to flee in the face of relationship definition," he teased gently. "My girlfriend would mock you for that. She's snarky."

"Snarky, hmm? Sounds challenging"

"Oh, it is. But then so am I. And she likes a challenge."

"Yeah," I said, except that my voice didn't work the way I wanted it to. "Yeah, she kind of does. Boyfriend."

T'vek grinned at me. "Girlfriend," he said. "Definitely." His dark-eyed gaze found mine, and we stayed there, staring at each other for several seconds, before we both began to giggle. I started to pull my hand away, so that I could cover my mouth, and stifle the sound, but then he muted both our voices by kissing me.

The first few kisses we'd shared had been in the Aquatics lab on the _Enterprise_ , and while they had been nice, they were very much first kisses. All bumped noses and tentative movements. The kiss T'vek initiated on the runabout corridor was much more intense, making me all tingly, and making my pulse race and…well… _note to self,_ I thought, _when meeting cute Vulcan/Betazoid boy in the middle of night, be sure to wear a bra._

I'm not sure exactly how long we spent actually making out. At one point T'vek's hands slid partway beneath my shirt, which _tickled_ , and I know I spent more time than was probably healthy caressing his ears - the points were _so_ sexy, and it made him catch his breath - and we never did get around to any more chatting, but eventually slow kisses were replaced by embarrassed yawns, and even though we both knew it was a really bad idea our little cushion in the corridor was pretty comfortable, and we sort of fell asleep.

Well, more than sort of.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43847.03**

**(Sunday, 6 November 2366, 03:59 hours, ship's time)**

It was Data who woke us up.

"Zoe," he called in his usual matter-of-fact tone, though with less volume than he used in class, "T'vek. Please wake up."

His voice brought me to groggy wakefulness. His presence, standing over us in the corridor, shocked me into complete alertness. "Data?" I asked, somewhat bashfully. "Um…are we in trouble?" I nudged T'vek so he'd be fully awake as well, but he just made a grumping sound, and his eyes remained shut. "T'vek," I called a bit louder. "The Royal Navy has taken the ship!"

Somehow, that worked. T'vek sat up, clipping me in the chin with his head. "Ow!"

"Ow?" I said. "You're the one who bumped me!" I paused to rub my chin. "And your head is _hard_!"

"Sorry, Zoe," T'vek said.

From behind us, Data said, "Excuse me," in as pointed a manner as I'd ever heard him. We both turned toward him. "Starfleet regulations require that the access corridors remain clear at all times when a runabout is in flight. If you are not comfortable in the sleeping quarters, you are welcome to relocate to the main cabin."

I looked from my tutor to my boyfriend, and back. Feeling oh-so-articulate, I said again, "Um…"

"Commander Data, what time is it please?" T'vek had risen from the cushion. He offered his hand and helped me to my feet.

"Not quite four-hundred hours," the android replied. Had either of us been truly alert we'd have remarked about the round number.

"I think I'll go back to bed," T'vek said. He picked up the cushion and blanket. "See you later in the morning, Zoe?"

"Um," I said for the third time. "Sure. Yes. Of course."

He flashed me a sleepy version of his usual insouciant grin, stamped a chaste kiss on my cheek, and slipped back into the quarters he was sharing with his father and the other boys, leaving me in the corridor with Data. In my pajamas. And bare feet.

"You should also return to bed, Zoe." Data advised quietly.

It was good advice, but once I'm up, I'm up, even if it's four-thirty in the morning, not that there's much difference between morning and evening in a runabout. I mean, the cabin lighting was softer, but there was nothing that really announced the hour. I bent to pick up the padd I'd left on the floor near where the cushion had been. "I should," I said, brushing my hair away from my face with my other hand. "But I'm kind of awake now. Am I required to return to bed, or can I go make a cup of tea or something?"

"You may help yourself to the replicator, Zoe, of course, but do you not require more rest before you begin your day?"

"Probably," I said as cheerfully as I could. "But when you tell my mother where you found me, and with whom, she'll either kill me or ground me for so long I'll wish I was dead, so I might as well enjoy a few hours of freedom."

To his credit, Data seemed to accept that I wasn't in the mood to retreat to my bed, and that I wasn't entirely serious about my mother's reaction. He nodded, and turned to walk back through the main cabin to the cockpit, and I followed him to the doorway.

"Data," I asked. "Is the runabout still on autopilot?"

"Yes," he said with his characteristic head-tilt. "Why?"

"If I wouldn't be too much of a distraction, could I bring my tea into the cockpit and sit with you while I drink it?"

"I would be happy to join you in the main cabin if you prefer not to drink alone," he countered.

"That's kind of you, and all," I said, "But I kind of wanted to sit in the front seat. Just for a while."

Data seemed a little confused. "I was under the impression that you had 'zero interest' in a Starfleet career, Zoe. You do know that only commissioned personnel and licensed pilots may take the controls of a Starfleet vessel?"

"Yes," I said. "This I know. But I don't want to fly the ship, I just want to see outside, even if all I see is the warp field."

He seemed almost dubious, but after a long second, he nodded his head. "Very well," he said. "You may join me for as long as it takes you to drink one mug of tea."

I wondered if he knew just how long a teenager could make one mug of anything last. Somehow, I suspected he might. He returned to the cockpit, and I went to the replicator for a mug of peppermint tea with as much sugar as it would let me have. I took it and my padd to the forward compartment, and settled cross-legged into the co-pilot's chair. "Am I allowed to talk to you?" I asked, "Or would you rather I be quiet?"

"Is there a specific topic you would like to discuss?" he asked.

I watched him checking out all the displays, and noting the status readings. "Not really. Although, if you're open to being bribed not to tell my mom or Kenash about T'vek and me…"

"Bribing an officer is a serious offense, Zoe," he responded.

I blinked at him, not certain if he was teasing me. "How serious?" I asked. "Are we talking 'tons of extra homework' serious or 'suspended from class' serious?"

"Historically," Data told me, "the punishment for bribing an officer of the Royal Navy could be anything from confinement to quarters to beheading."

"Beheading?"

"It was considered an honorable death. Pirates and privateers, on the other hand," and he emphasized the word 'pirates' just a little bit, "were traditionally hanged by the neck until dead."

"Seems kind of extreme," I observed, after a thoughtful sip of my tea.

"Indeed."

"You didn't actually answer the question, though," I pointed out.

"That is true; I did not," he agreed. He continued, and I could tell, now, that he was still playing a character, of sorts, "Still, I am inclined to be lenient, as this is your first offense."

"Please, Commander Data, sir," I said, enjoying our impromptu game, and even attempting (badly) a British accent, "I am _ever_ so remorseful and promise we'll _never_ get caught in such a position again."

"See that you do not," he said.

We were both silent for a long time, and I watched the star trail outside our tiny ship. Finally, I asked, "Data, has anyone ever told you that for a Starfleet officer, you're incredibly cool?"

Time spent with all of us in the tutorial had made him reasonably familiar with our slang. He didn't ask why I was remarking upon his temperature. Instead, he swiveled his head toward me and favored me with the slightly goofy, slightly shy, almost-smile I would eventually realize was as close to an organic expression as he ever got. I didn't know if it was because I'd told him he was cool, or because I'd said he was cool for an _officer_ rather than an android.

"Go back to your bunk, Zoe," he said softly. "Since I became aware of your presence in the corridor before an official alert sounded, there is no need for a notation in the ship's log; nor will I 'rat you out' to your parents."

I knew better than to refuse his offer. I left the cockpit post-haste, though I did pause in the doorway long enough to utter a soft, "G'night, Data. And thank you."

I returned my empty mug to the replicator, and moved back through the cabin to the too-dark sleeping quarters and bed. It wasn't until I was nearly asleep that I realized I'd left my padd on the empty co-pilot's chair.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43847.85**

**(Sunday, 6 November 2366, 11:13 hours, ship's time)**

I don't know what, if anything, Data said to my mother about why I was out of bed earlier that night, but since neither she nor Dana woke up when I returned to my bunk after T'vek, tea, and talking, I assumed he had kept his word, and said nothing.

Similarly, I don't know what, if anything, he or T'vek told her to explain my utter inability to wake up for breakfast that day.

When I finally _did_ get out of bed, it was because my friend had come into our cabin to get me.

"Zoe," Dana was coaxing, "C'mon! You slept through most of the morning. We're almost to the Serenity system, and Commander Data wants to go over ground rules and assignments."

"Don't wanna," I grumbled, but I knew I couldn't afford to have an adult come get me, so I grudgingly got up, changed into a fresh t-shirt and jeans, and twisted my hair into a messy knot at the back of my head. True, I dawdled in the bathroom every morning back on the _Enterprise_ , but when I really _had_ to move quickly, I could. "Tell them I'll be right out?"

"Sure," Dana said, and went back to the main cabin.

My 'right out' was actually more like ten minutes, though, because there was no way I was going to see T'vek and everyone else without washing my face, brushing my teeth, and putting on at least a little bit of makeup.

I slouched into the chair that had been left open for me between Dana and my mother, muttering, "Sorry to keep everyone waiting," with as much sincerity as possible.

To her credit, my mother didn't grill me about my tardiness in front of the group. Instead, she passed me a mug of heavily creamed coffee, and flashed the look that meant we'd be talking later.

T'vek flashed me a look, as well - one that was more of a smug smirk than anything else. I responded with a very slight shake of my head. We'd _also_ be talking later.

"Your late arrival has not adversely affected our schedule," Data assured me. Then he addressed all of us. "The hotel where we will be staying has a shuttle bay on the roof. Once we land, a representative of the establishment will clear our arrival on Serenity Five and escort us to our rooms. Commander Harris, you will be sharing a pair of connected rooms with Zoe and Dana."

My mother nodded her acknowledgement of this, and then Data continued. "Mr. Mairaj, you will be sharing a similar pair of rooms with T'vek, Josh, and Wesley."

"Can't I share with you, Data?" Wes asked.

"I believe you will be more comfortable with your classmates, Wesley," Data answered. "However, I will be available at all times should the need arise." Again he changed his focus so he was including the entire group. "That is true for everyone. I have already sent copies of our itinerary to each of your padds. Please refer to them as I go over the schedule."

I had been half-listening up to that point, more concerned with ingesting caffeine than absorbing information, but when Data mentioned our padds, I realized I didn't have mine. In fact, there was a good chance it was still sitting in the cockpit of the shuttle unless Data had picked it up for me.

My brain shifted from zero to paranoia as I realized I had never password-locked the device, which meant anyone who turned it on would have access to the book I'd been reading, my homework, a few messages from friends back home, and my journal. The thought of anyone reading that made me aspirate my coffee.

"Zoe! Are you alright?" My mother was moving the mug away from me, and reaching for napkins. Even in Starfleet, mothers always seem to have an endless supply of napkins. Thankfully, she just handed me a few rather than trying to wipe my face for me.

"I'm…um…yeah, fine. Sorry. Went down the wrong pipe." My explanation was lame, but accurate. "I don't have my padd with me," I added.

"Share with me," Dana said from my other side. "If you go back for yours, you might be tempted to crawl back in bed."

I flashed my friend a grateful, if slightly rueful, grin, and we bent over her padd together, while Data outlined our game plan: a free afternoon to rest and acclimate ourselves to being on a planet, followed by dinner in the hotel restaurant, and a couple of hours of recreational time afterward. Day two would be our first of two trips to the amusement park. Day three involved a tour of a hands-on science and technology museum in the morning, and a free afternoon.

Day four was all about hanging with my father - a tour of the concert hall, a question and answer session with the orchestra members, lunch, a public lecture explaining the pieces that would be played, and then the concert, with a late dinner afterward. The next morning was open, but in the afternoon we were back at the amusement park, this time to pay closer attention to the information we needed for our assignment, helped out with a behind-the-scenes tour, and finally, on day six, we'd be leaving.

"If no one has any questions about the itinerary," Data said, "let us move on to your assignments." He explained that we were to use the principles that ruled the function of the grav-coasters at the amusement part to design a theme park of our own. "You will work as a group," he instructed, "to choose a theme, a location, and design five rides that use the same mathematical principles you experience on Serenity Five."

He gave us a few minutes to ask questions then dismissed us to pack our belongings. My mother went to the cockpit to take the controls since we were nearing the point where autopilot wouldn't be an option, and T'vek's father went with the boys to supervise their packing. I was about to follow Dana back in our quarters, when Data stopped me.

"One moment, Zoe," he said softly.

I was out of my chair already, so I just turned to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry I was late," I said again. "I'm actually surprised my mother didn't wake me up."

"I informed her that you had been awake and drinking tea with me at a very early hour, and that as we had no specific meeting time, there was no harm in allowing you to rest."

"You _covered_ for me? I thought you couldn't lie?" I was trying to keep my voice down, but my disbelief was pretty obvious.

"That is not entirely accurate. As a rule, I do not lie, but I am capable of doing so when required. However, you _were_ awake and drinking tea early this morning, and you were with me. We agreed, did we not, that I would not inform your mother of the details of your late night activities?" His expression relaxed from what I'd come to think of as 'officer' mode to 'normal person' mode. "As well, I believe that we also agreed that we were friends as well as teacher and student."

"Well, yes, but, I kind of figured you were just being nice. Which, I guess, would have been a lie, in a way. Sort of. But anyway, I'm pretty sure you hadn't really planned this to be an analysis of typical friendship behavior?"

"That assessment is correct. I merely wished to return your padd without causing you any embarrassment. You inadvertently left it behind last night."

He held the device out to me, and I took it. "Thanks, Data," I said, and then, sheepishly I asked. "Um, you didn't read anything that was on it, did you?"

"I did not," he said. "However, in the future you would be wise to set a time-delay so that your password protection will engage automatically after a specified length of idleness. I would be happy to assist you if you do not know how to set that function."

"I do know how," I said, a bit defensively. In a more normal tone, I added, "I just haven't bothered. But I will." I waited a beat then added, "I meant what I said last night. You really are incredibly cool."

"Thank you, Zoe. Please attend to your packing now. I must relieve your mother so that she may give you her full attention."

Obviously dismissed, I beat a hasty retreat back to the cabin, where Dana was sitting on her bunk. "Okay, Zoe," she said, "what was that about, and where is your padd?"

"Right here," I said, waving it at her. "I kind of left it somewhere I shouldn't after doing something naughty that I will tell you all about once we're no longer in a shuttle that is only slightly larger than my dad's left shoe."

"How naughty?" my friend wanted to know.

I grinned. " _Deliciously_ naughty."

I totally deserved to be hit by the sneaker Dana threw at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Danube-class runabouts weren't used before 2368, the need for larger craft than shuttles was not new. Since "modern" runabouts were named after rivers, I've arbitrarily decided that the earlier, less adaptable versions were named after lakes.   
> The runabout seen in the episode "Timescape" had a designation (an NCC number) but no visible name.   
> The "I'm Going to…" game is one I've played all my life, and my mother did vary the pattern and make us match it. The Shakespearean insults are from a variety of sources, including the ComedySportz cast guide, materials from a high school AP English course, and a t-shirt that a local theatre troupe once sold as a fundraiser. The other card game is, of course, a riff on Fluxx.   
> Zoe and her friends playing pirates on the holodeck (and elsewhere) will continue to be a theme as this story goes on.


	7. Considering the Letter P

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Considering things that begin with 'p' - like pools, pips, and promotions. (The shuttle arrives at Serenity Five.)

**Stardate 43848.29**

**(Sunday, 6 November 2366, 3:04 PM, local time)**

**Serenity Towers Hotel, Serenity Five**

Hotels, at least hotels that cater to humanoid guests, are pretty much the same throughout the Federation. Oh, sure, some are more luxurious than others, but after you strip away the glitz and glamour, it all comes down to this: beds, restaurants and swimming pools. I'd visited my father on tour enough to know that the best choice of bed is the one closest to the restroom, so as soon as my mother, Dana and I arrived in the room - suite, really, since it was two rooms connected by a bathroom, and had a common living area - assigned to us, I put my luggage on that bed. "Dibs on this one," I called.

"So I get the wall," Dana asked?

My mother was giving me one of those _looks,_ the kind that only parents ever master, so I swallowed my smug grin and asked my friend, "Unless you want the other one?"

She shrugged. "I'm kind of used to the wall after living on the _Enterprise_ so long. Dad and I were aboard from the beginning." She put her stuff near - but not on - the other bed in our room. My mother was already making the single on the other side of the bathroom into her own home-away-from-the-ship.

"I hadn't realized," I said, moving my bag to the floor now that we'd agreed the bed was mine. "Do you mind it much? Living on the ship?"

She shrugged again. "I get to be with my father. After my mother died, there were all these relatives who swooped in and tried to 'rescue' me. They said a Starfleet officer couldn't raise a daughter on his own, especially not in security, but then they started the Galaxy class program - sending families."

"I thought your father was a tactical specialist?"

"He is. Tactical is a blend of command, ops, and security." My friend wrinkled her nose. "Zoe, do you really not know how ship's departments are divided?"

It was my turn to shrug. "Hi, have you met me? The girl who stomped around for three months because she _didn't_ want to be on the ship everyone else thinks it's an honor to be assigned to?" I ran a hand through my hair, using the motion as time to think. "I've always been closer to my father than to Mom," I said. "He's a musician; he's flamboyant, he's…fun. I mean, yeah, he left me with my grandmother more than I really wanted, but…look, I _look_ like my mother, but I'm really Daddy's girl, you know?"

Dana sighed. "Just when I think you're blending in," she teased, "you're suddenly more alien than…well…"

"Actual aliens?" I offered, grinning.

"Something like that," she agreed.

"How 'bout we skip Starship Operations 102 and go down to the pool," I suggested, changing the subject.

"Are we allowed?"

"Why wouldn't we be?" I asked. "You brought a bathing suit, right?"

"Yes," she said. "But we should check with your mother. Also, I haven't congratulated her yet."

I was suddenly extremely confused. "Congratulated …my mother?"

"Zoe!" Dana had joined the ranks of people who could use the three letters of my name to convey a complex assortment of emotion, a skill that was evidently not restricted to adults. In this case, I heard notes of exasperation, frustration, disbelief and even a bit of chagrin.

"What?" I tried not to make it sound defensive.

"You didn't notice that Data called her 'Commander' this morning? Or see that her pips have changed."

"Um…no?" She gaped at me, so I added, "In my defense, I hadn't had coffee, and was kind of stressing over where I'd left my padd."

"You really don't know?"

"Don't know _what?_? Now I was exasperated.

"Your mother got her promotion to Lieutenant Commander. She didn't tell you?" It was my turn to offer a stupid stare and dropped jaw. "Zoe?"

I shook my head, trying to get my brain working again. "She hinted this morning that we'd be talking later, but I thought it was just to yell at me about bugging Data in the middle of the night, and then oversleeping." I shrugged. "And honestly, I'm still not up on the telling-rank-by-looking-at-pips thing. Isn't a pip a citrus seed, anyway?"

Dana just shook her head at me. "Zoe, I get that you'd rather not be on the ship, but your mother's been in Starfleet your entire life. How could you not know this stuff?"

I had the good sense to look ashamed. "It never really interested me all that much. She wasn't away as much when I was younger - short missions, close to home - and then she dragged me to the ship, but mostly when I'm with her she's just Mom, not an officer." I waited to see if the lecture was over, and since it seemed to be, I said, "So, wanna go to the pool?"

Dana smirked. "Sure. Just as soon as your mother says it's okay."

Dana and I went through the connecting bathroom to my mother's room, where she was in the middle of a com-chat with my father. She held up a hand, signaling us to wait quietly, so we sat on the end of her bed. "I think you should tell her yourself," she said to my father's image, but she lowered her voice for the rest of the call, so I couldn't figure out what he was supposed to be telling me. After a beat, she turned to us, "Girls?"

I put on my best innocent look, and paraphrased a character from an ancient twenty-first century film my father and I had watched one night. "Mom," I said, "I've been considering things that begin with the letter _p_."

My mother's eyebrows arched in response to this announcement, for this was a familiar game. "Let me guess," she said. "Pizza and pillow fights?"

"Actually no," I said, crossing my legs. "I was thinking more along the lines of permission, pool, and…what was that other thing, Dana?" Dana shook her head, so I just continued, "…promotions."

My mother's delighted smile was so beautiful that I felt bad I had to be schooled by a friend in order to realize what was going on with her. "So you _did_ notice," she beamed. "Zoe, I wanted to tell you before we left the ship, but we were so busy, and then this morning…"

"Actually, Mom, Dana noticed. You _know_ that if there was a class testing me on Starfleet knowledge I'd be an abysmal failure." I paused, but added sincerely. "But I'm really, really happy for you, Mom, even if I don't understand exactly what you get other than a fancier title and different jewelry."

For a long moment, I was afraid my mother would be offended by this confession, but she actually laughed. "Oh, Zoificus," she said, "you are _so much_ your father's daughter."

I smiled. "Well, I have his musical ability and sense of humor," I agreed. "But the killer hair, I get from you. And since you're calling me Zoificus again, does that mean the swimming pool is a go?"

"Mmm." My mother pretended to think it over, while Dana watched our byplay. "Commander Data specifically said the time before dinner was to be spent 'resting'."

"Actually, Commander Harris," Dana pointed out, "Data said 'resting and acclimating' ourselves to being planet-side."

I nodded at my friend. "She's right," I said, "And I can't think of any better place to acclimate than in a swimming pool."

"Point taken," my mother grinned. "Go put your suits on, and I'll even join you, but Dana, dear, please call me Emily. I've asked you more than once now."

"Yes ma'am," Dana replied, "Emily."

Roughly half an hour later, I used a hotel towel to wipe pool water from my eyes, and then padded barefoot over to the deck chairs where my mother and best friend were reclining. Taking the chair they'd left open between them, I stretched out, and folded my arms behind my head.

"Nice swim, Zoe?" Mom asked, looking up from the magazine she was reading on her padd.

"I'm considering a few more _p_ -words," I said.

"Do tell?"

I grinned, and listed them for her: "Peachy… pleasant … _perfection._ "

It's a good thing I didn't know how soon that feeling would fade.


	8. Guilt, Flattery, & Bribery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the field trip on Serenity Five, Zoe has a meeting with her father.

**Stardate 43853.68**

**(Tuesday, 8 November 2366, 2:18 PM, local time)**

**Serenity Towers Hotel, Serenity Five**

A day and a half of non-stop togetherness with your friends, your mother, your boyfriend's father, and your teacher, even when said teacher is technically a friend, too, can be exhausting.

We'd had a blast the first day at the theme park, hooking up with three Andorian kids who were on a last vacation with their father before he transferred to a deep space station. With our group expanded to eight, we didn't have to deal with the fact that amusement park rides were designed to be ridden in pairs and force someone to ride alone or stay on the ground, and I noticed that Dana and the older Andorian boy - Rikkan - were getting along so well that Josh was starting to act a little jealous.

I'd even asked her about that when the two of us had excused ourselves for a restroom run. "You're being kinda flirty today," I teased. "Do you have an antenna fetish I didn't know about before?"

My best friend blushed. "Rikkan's kind of nice," she said, staring at her reflection in the mirror and tightening her ponytail.

"Mmhm. And pretty cute, too."

"You don't think it's weird? Being into someone who isn't human?"

"I'm dating T'vek," I pointed out. "Anyway, he's probably asking if it's weird to like someone who _is_ human. But, I thought you liked Josh?"

Dana avoided my eyes. "I did," she said. "I _do_ ," but he's clearly not that into me."

I offered her a sympathetic smile. "I wouldn't be too sure about that."

For the rest of the day, Josh and Rikkan tripped over themselves to get Dana's attention, and T'vek and I kept looking for opportunities to slip away, but Pirates of the Mutara Nebula was closed for maintenance, and eventually we decided to focus on our assignment - evaluating the biggest scariest rides.

Similarly, the next morning's trip to the technology museum seemed designed to keep us in a group. The guide's amplification system did nothing to make her inability to enunciate any clearer, so we had to stick close and take turns interpreting for each other.

When we were finally back at the hotel that afternoon, I was so crabby I didn't even want to make my mother take me on our promised shopping excursion, I just wanted ten minutes of quiet, so when everyone else went to lunch, I got permission to go back to our hotel room and take a nap. Of course, I wasn't really sleepy. Just tired of being around people.

I was also distracted by Dana's comments the night before, about not really understanding the command structure of the _Enterprise._ I sprawled on my bed trying to come up with ways to ask Wes to coach me without making me seem stupid or allowing him to feel smug. Why Wes? Because there are some things you don't admit to the boy you're making out with in shuttlecraft corridors. Or to your best friend. Or to the boy your best friend likes. Or to the teacher you maybe, probably have a crush on, except that you have a boyfriend, and it's probably just that he's so vastly different from any other adult that you know.

I happily answered he incoming vid-call from my father when the com-system chimed an alert, though by that time, I probably would have answered the recorded voice from the local time-and-date beacon, had it called. "Hi, Dad."

"Zoetrope! Good to see you, kiddo. Are you enjoying Serenity Five? Where's your mother, and your friends?"

"Back at you, Dad. And to answer in order, yes, and they're all at lunch. I was feeling a little peopled-out."

"Too 'peopled-out' to meet your old man for a coffee? We're not far from your hotel, and we have a flitter."

"Coffee's do-able," I said. "I should check with Mom or Data, or at least let them know where I'll be. I mean, we have the afternoon designated for free time, but it was kind of suggested that we should stay nearby."

"I'm sure your mother won't mind," my father said, "Change into something without writing on it, and be in the lobby in ten minutes."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43853.77**

**(8 November 2366, 3:02 PM, local time)**

**The Leonardo Hotel, Serenity Five**

Dad had been prompt, as always, and the flitter ("A rental, Zoe, I swear!") was pretty luxe for a cloud-to-ground model. We zipped across town to a smaller, fancier, hotel in the arts district, one with a coffee bar on the ground floor, and he led me to a table in the corner.

"I had an interesting conversation with that teacher of yours, Zoe. The gold fellow. Mr. Data."

" _Commander_ Data," I corrected absently, looking around at the art deco design of the place, and the array of art on the walls. "Wait, you talked to him about more than this trip?"

"He told me you were working through a college-level music theory course together. Did you know he's arranged for you to receive credit for it?"

I hadn't, but somehow I wasn't surprised. "Assuming I pass without frying his circuits," I said. "He didn't happen to mention how I was doing?"

"I believe the phrase 'excellent student' might have passed his lips." My father's tone darkened a bit, "Though he also referred to your math work as 'adequate.'"

I grinned at that. "Considering that my own description of my math abilities was 'abysmal' when I started his class, 'adequate' means a lot. He's got this way of guiding you toward the answer to a question without actually doing the work for you. If all my math teachers had been like him, I'd probably have a way better GPA."

My father signaled a waiter while I talked, and he ordered a double espresso, then looked at me, "Do you want hot chocolate, Zoe?"

"Honestly, Dad, I'm fifteen, not five. I'd like a macchiato, please." I was learning to like coffee without chocolate or sweeteners in it, but still needed milk.

"You're growing up so fast…has it really been only four months?"

"Six, if you count the last two months of school last year, when you were on Earth. You know I'll be sixteen in a few weeks. Legal for cloud-to-ground vehicles."

"I don't think you need to worry about a flitter license while you're on the ship, Zoe," he pointed out. "Your mother says you're adjusting better?"

The waiter brought our drinks, and I waited for him to leave before answering. "Kind of, yeah. I might not hate it quite as much as she thinks I do."

"She also said there's a boy…?"

"T'vek, Dad. I told you about him in the last three messages I sent. Don't you open your mail?"

"Tour's been keeping me busy, kiddo. You know how it is." He took a deeper swallow of his espresso than was usual. Almost a gulp.

"Is this your lead-in to telling me I don't get to spend Christmas with you?"

"No," he said. "We'd love to have you with us for the holidays."

I pushed my cup away - it was too hot for me, anyway - and stared at my father through slitted eyes - "Who is 'we,' Dad? What are you not telling me?"

My father had the decency to blush. He picked up his cup, then set it down again. "You know your mother and I have been separated for over a year."

"Well, yes, but - I mean - I thought that was just because of her assignment to Enterprise. Mostly."

"Oh, Zoe. That was part of it." He really did seem upset. A little. "We're ending our marriage, kiddo. I've met someone, and she and I - "

"Met someone?" I wanted to yell. I wanted to throw my cup at him. I wanted to throw _myself_ at him and bawl like a little kid. Instead, I kept my voice as low and calm as I could. "Does Mom know?"

"About the divorce? Yes, Zoe, contrary to your assumption your mother and I actually do communicate." My father could out-snark everyone, including me, when he wanted to. Generally, he only wanted to when someone - usually me - made him angry.

"No, about her replacement. What's her name? It _is_ a 'her' isn't it?" I'd heard stories about my father's life before he and my mother had gotten together. I really didn't care, but I was pretty angry, too.

"Gia is not a replacement," my father began.

"Isn't she?" I interrupted.

"She is _not_. She is a lovely woman, as well as being the archivist for the orchestra. I'm sure you'll like her if you just give her a chance."

I picked up my coffee cup, not to throw, but to drink from. I figured having something in my mouth would stop me from screaming. What _was_ it about my parents dragging me to public places before they dropped news-bombs on me? "Is she here?"

"On the tour? Yes, of course. She travels with us."

"No, not here. _Here._ In the hotel. Right now. I mean, isn't this where you introduce me to her and make me promise to behave in front of my classmates tomorrow?"

My father's eyes widened in surprise. Apparently he hadn't thought of that. "Actually, no. She had a meeting with the manager of the concert hall. I was hoping you and I could hang out a while longer."

"I was supposed to go shopping."

"Excuse me?"

"With mom. I promised not to bitch - "

"Watch your language - "

"Whatever. I promised not to grump about her being a chaperone if she took me to a vintage dress shop. I didn't have anything appropriate for a concert."

My father sighed. "I suppose the dress you have in mind is ridiculously expensive?"

"Actually it's not," I said, a bit too brightly. "But the matching shoes and bag…they're gonna cost you."

"And you won't embarrass me or Gia tomorrow in front of your mother and your classmates?"

I tipped the last of my drink into my mouth, and gave my father my best catty smile. "I will," I said, "be on my absolute best behavior. Did I mention there are earrings, too?"

I didn't really want to go shopping. At that moment I would have preferred to be in my room at Gran's farm on Centaurus with angry music blasting into my ears. I wouldn't have even minded being on the _Enterprise_ , but since neither of those things were possible, an expensive shopping trip would have to do.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43854.51**

**(8 November 2366, 9:33 PM, local time)**

**Serenity Towers Hotel, Serenity Five**

It was long past dinner time by the time Dad returned me to the hotel. He'd called my mother to tell her that I was okay, and still with him, but I'd told him not to go in with me. I was surprised to find, not my mother waiting in the lobby when I walked in with my two garment bags as well as another bag with shoes and accessories, but Data. He had been sitting in one of the chairs, but he rose as I approached.

"Zoe," he said. And while he meant my name merely as an acknowledgement of my presence, he seemed disappointed in me. Or, as disappointed as he could be.

I couldn't meet his eyes, and dropped my bags on the floor so I wouldn't have to. "You're pretty pissed at me, aren't you?"

"If by 'pissed' you mean 'angry,' you are incorrect. As you know, I am incapable of experiencing anger. However, your behavior _was_ irresponsible." Somehow a reproachful tone was worse coming from an android's mouth.

"I left a note. For you and for my mother. And Dad called. And technically the afternoon was free time. It's not like I went out and got drunk."

He blinked at me a couple of times. "Technically, you are correct. You did not break any of the established rules for your comportment on this trip."

"But…?"

"But there was a tacit understanding that you were to stay near this hotel, and that obtaining permission to deviate from that plan was the preferred choice, was there not?"

"Yes," I admitted. "There was." I waited a beat to see if he was going to add anything. When he didn't, I looked up. "I wasn't comfortable asking Mom if I could skip spending time with her to spend time with Dad. I should have gone to you, but I was afraid you'd defer to her. I was disrespectful of your role as my teacher and my friend," I said softly. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

I don't know what Data would have said to a subordinate officer, but in that moment I could see the 'command quality' Wes and T'vek were always talking about when discussing ranking officers. He would have been totally within his rights to restrict my activities for the rest of the trip, but instead he simply said, "See that it does not."

I nodded then bent to retrieve the bags I'd dropped. "Good night, Data," I said, as I walked toward the bank of lifts.

"Sleep well, Zoe," came his response from somewhere behind me.

Of course, facing him was only my first task of the evening. When I got back to our room, my mother was sitting on the sofa, and the door to the bedroom I shared with Dana was closed. She patted the seat next to her, and I left my bags near the door to join her.

"If you're going to yell at me," I said, "Can it wait 'til tomorrow? I know you think I waltzed out to spend time with Dad and had a great time, but he didn't even wait half an hour before telling me that you're getting divorced and that he has a new girlfriend."

"Commander Data met you in the lobby?" she asked mildly.

"Yes. Do you think there's some kind of award for disappointing an android?"

"If something had happened to you, it would have been his responsibility," my mother pointed out. "I wanted to yell at you, but you were with an adult, and you did leave a note. And it's possible you should have heard about the divorce from me." She offered a weak smile.

I kicked my shoes off and curled up against her on the couch. "How 'bout we call it even on this one, Mom. I'm sure there will be lots of other things you can yell at me about this year."

She chuckled softly. "Probably so." She took a beat, and noted all the bags I'd brought in. "He took you shopping."

"You know that saying about the power of guilt, flattery, and bribery?"

"Mmhm?"

"The first and third are kind of a down payment on the second. I promised to be on my best behavior tomorrow."

"Zoe Harris, sometimes you scare me."

"Mom, sometimes I scare myself."


	9. Snark in the Key of 'Z'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting your soon-to-be stepmother in front of all your friends, and your mom, is always super-fun. Zoe and her friends go to a concert, and take over Data's hotel room for a slumber party.

**Snark in the Key of 'Z'**

**Stardate 43855.93**

**(Wednesday, 9 November 2366, 10:00 AM, local time)**

**Musicplex Concert Hall, Serenity Five**

I knew that, at some point during our day with my father and his orchestra, I would be meeting The Girlfriend, as I'd already labeled her in my head. I expected her to be younger than my mother. I expected her to be pretty. I even halfway expected her to be blonde, even if that was a completely stereotypical assumption. The middle-aged man always falls for the pretty, young, blonde, right? Nothing, however, prepared me for the fact that _this particular_ pretty, young, blonde would guide us through our tour of the music hall, and be with us throughout the day.

"Good morning, everyone," she greeted, flashing us a smile full of too-white, too-perfect teeth. "I'm Gia Viglione. Officially, I'm the Capitol City Orchestra's archivist, but on this tour, I'm also acting as manager and publicity liaison." She fixed my mother with her sparkly, blue-eyed gaze and greeted her too warmly, "Emily, it's lovely to finally put a face to the name," as if she could erase the inherent awkwardness of the situation with sheer enthusiasm. She turned to Data, "And Commander Data, Zoe's letters to her father mention you a lot."

While my mother managed only a nod and a polite-but-firm handshake, Data was smoother, and a part of me wondered if he was treating this as a sort of first contact situation, or if he was literally on some kind of android autopilot. "It is good to meet you, Ms. Viglione," he answered her, also shaking her hand.

"Gia, please," she said, turning away from him to greet T'vek's father, and asking if he preferred to be called Kenash or Mr. Mairaj. Clearly she'd been briefed about all of us.

She greeted all of my friends by name as well, complimenting Dana on her wardrobe, and mixing up Wes and Josh, which made the rest of us giggle, at least. She told T'vek he was exactly as expected from my letters, and then she turned to me, and opened her arms. "Zoe, darling, give me a hug. I'm so glad to finally meet you in person."

"Kill me now," I muttered to T'vek and Dana, who were standing closest to me, but I'd promised my father I'd be on my best behavior, and since my mother was behaving with grace I supposed I could at least skip the temper tantrum. "Wish I could say the same," I said, in a too-sweet tone, as I stepped into her embrace, "But Dad never even mentioned you 'til yesterday." I absolutely did not give a wide-eyed blink as a said it. Well…not one that anyone saw.

Her smile faltered, but her embrace was firm, if quick. "You know your father, Zoe. So busy, and so scattered. He means well, really."

"Is that why he has you reading his mail?" I asked, since Gia had known about T'vek when my father had seemed not to. Privately, though, I had to admit that her description of my father was fairly accurate.

"Oh, Zoe," she forced a laugh. "Zachary said you had a tendency to be direct. 'Straight up snarky,' he calls you."

"Mmhmm." I agreed. "Except it's more like 'snarky with a twist of lime' these days." It wasn't the response I truly wanted to give, but I'd caught the warning arch of my mother's eyebrow, and felt the tension from my friends. Stepping away from her, I flashed my best innocent grin then asked, "Hey, is it true there are tunnels and catacombs under this building?"

"There are!" she confirmed, as if she were delighted by the very thought. Maybe she planned to ditch me in one of them. "And we'll see some of them, but before we do that, follow me, and let me show you some of the more unique features of the above-ground portion of the building."

She led us through the concert hall, explaining things like the way the railings across the picture windows of the mezzanine level lobby were designed at _barre_ height so the local dance company could use them for pre-performance warm-ups, and the way the data screens provided at each seat provided instant translations of whatever was being spoken or sung on stage, as well as information about the performers.

"When developing the Serenity Five arts and entertainment community," Gia went on, "the leaders of Serenity Five wanted their concert hall to be more than merely accommodating, so they drew on successful designs from around the Federation. The main hall is engineered to have a 1.9-second echo, just like Boston's Symphony Hall in Massachusetts, on Earth. That measurement is supposed to be the most pleasing to the average humanoid ear."

"I am curious," Data interrupted her at one point. "Opera, dance and instrumental concerts have very different acoustic requirements. Is the sound quality adversely affected by adjustments to the stage and seating?"

Gia seemed grateful to have a question to answer. "It would be, but the walls and seats are all on adjustable plates. The concert hall can be made larger or smaller, the walls be pushed outward, curves softened or corners sharpened, all depending on the needs of the type of performance and the artists' preferences."

Her tour led us down through access tunnels beneath the stage, down to the first sub-basement, where furniture, costumes, and other equipment were stored. Here, the architecture was obviously older, stone construction that seemed more appropriate for nineteenth-century France than a modern pleasure planet.

" _Phantom of the Opera,_ much?" Josh observed softly.

"'In sleep he sang to me…in dreams, he came,'" I sang softly in response. Dad had served as musical director of the ancient musical a few years ago, and I still knew the entire score. Josh, of course, was our resident theatre geek, so it was perfectly natural for him to sing the next line.

"Wasn't there a horror vid based on that story as well?" T'vek asked. "Because this feels like the perfect setting for an undead killer to drag his victims." To prove his point, he made the sound that has been used in spooky-tunnel scenes in horror movies and vids for centuries: " _Ca-ca-ca-ca, che-che-che-che._ "

"Stop that!" Dana hissed at him.

"Stop what?" T'vek asked her, the corners of his mouth curving ever-so-slightly upwards.

"I do not believe it is likely that a serial murder with a facial deformity - living or undead - is lurking in the shadows here," Data observed, before the conversation could go any further. "Please pay attention."

The mild correction was enough to sober all of us. Gia, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware of the entire exchange, and was currently explaining that there were two levels of basement below this one, and that the bottom one really did have sewer access. "I'm told the nod to old Terran architecture is a bit of a joke on the part of the designer," she added.

We followed her down a few more dimly-lit corridors, and then up a series of people-mover ramps until we returned to the mezzanine lobby, where my father was waiting for us.

Specifically, he was leaning oh-so-casually against one of the railings, and he was dressed to impress in a white linen shirt, perfectly pressed, but untucked and with the cuffs hanging open, and black pants that were really too tight to be worn by _anyone's_ father, the matching jacket dangling from one of his hands. He was also, I noticed, sporting the single earring I'd given him for his birthday when I was ten and he was conducting an opera company's revival of _The Pirates of Penzance_. I wondered if he'd chosen to wear it for me, to make my friends (or Gia) think he was cool, or to annoy my mother, who hated jewelry on men. Most likely answer: all of the above. The final touch, though, was the black fedora he was also wearing. That piece of attire was the one that told me that if yesterday's version of my dad had been the contrite-but-indulgent absentee father, today's was all Euro-trash playboy.

"Well," he said by way of greeting. "Did you enjoy the tour? No one got lost in the tunnels? I'm pretty sure one of our oboe players went missing down there the other day." His accent, a mix of Croatian, French, and British English, was stronger than I was accustomed to hearing - usually it was barely detectible, which meant he was definitely pushing the 'cool' factor. "You didn't happen to see her…? No? Well, anyway, I'm glad to have you all here. My Zoetrope, especially."

"Dad - really?"

"She doesn't like it when I use nicknames in public," he observed wryly. "But anyway, Emily-dear, good to see you." He gave my mother the showy European triple-kiss that real people never actually did any more, and breezed over my mother's cool use of his name as an acknowledgement. "And Commander Data, we meet at last." Our tutor was favored with an exuberant handshake/shoulder pat combination.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Maestro," Data responded, his typical low-key demeanor the perfect counterpoint to my father's boisterous behavior.

"Zo', c'mere and give me a hug, then introduce me to your little friends."

I rolled my eyes at his phrasing, but we hugged, and then I introduced T'vek's father, first, and then Dana, Josh, Wes, and T'vek. My father made some more small-talk, asking Kenash about his work and chatting with my friends about the tour. Gia, I noticed, hovered very nearby, but didn't insert herself into the conversation. I moved over to my mother, who had separated herself from us.

"You okay, Mom?" I asked softly. "This is so weird."

She gave a rueful chuckle. "I should be asking you that." She lowered her tone even further, "I should also be lecturing you about being catty with Gia earlier, but I think I enjoyed it, a little."

I shrugged. "She seems harmless. Disgustingly perky, and sarcasm seems to float right over her head, but harmless… It's just…"

"…weird. I know." There was a beat, and then she added, "Your father is covering."

"Oh, you mean the Zachary Harris Experience over there. Yeah, I noticed. How are you so calm and collected? Intensive Starfleet training?" I was teasing her, but only a little.

"Actually, yes. I've almost convinced myself this is just another mission."

"Oh, Mom." I grabbed her hand, and squeezed it, and she squeezed mine back. "Remind me, later, to tell you how awesome you are."

She managed a sincere smile. "Go join your friends, Zoe. You're here to learn, remember."

I rejoined the group just as my father was rubbing his hands together, his jacket having long since been draped over the railing. "Alright then, who wants to go find some musicians and take them to lunch? We can talk about the physics and math of music while we eat, yes? Yes!"

He reclaimed his coat, turned on his heel and led us down one more level and across a breezeway to the concert hall's café, where several of the musicians were waiting for us. "Order what you want," he instructed us as he ushered us inside. "My treat."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43857.02**

**(Wednesday, 9 November 2366, 7:30 PM, local time)**

**Musicplex Concert Hall, Serenity Five**

"Inspiration is for amateurs," my father declared to the audience assembled in the hall on Serenity Five at the pre-concert lecture. There were other music fans - paying customers - not just my classmates and me, but it felt like his words were directed to me even so. "When someone tells you they're not inspired," he went on, "it really means they won't put in the work."

We'd spent the better part of the day at the concert hall, and the bulk of that had been graced by my father's presence, and as much as I loved him, I was getting tired of his public persona. Thankfully, we just had to get through the next half hour of talking about the music we were about to hear, and then the concert itself. At least I had an amazing outfit to wear, courtesy of a vintage clothing store not too far from our hotel, and my father's guilt over not keeping me in the loop about his old relationship with my mom, or his new one with Gia.

Next to me, my boyfriend T'vek must have been able to tell I was getting impatient, because he squeezed my hand. I shot him a look out of the corner of my eye and offered him the hint of a smile, but didn't say anything, because on my other side, Data was asking a question.

"You say that inspiration means a lack of hard work," our android tutor asked. "But how do you account for the spark of creativity… the 'divine gift' that leads to the composition of such music as the orchestra will be playing this evening?"

My father seemed a bit taken aback, but I'm not sure if it was the question or the questioner. "That's an interesting point, Commander Data," he said. "Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that it is amateurish to wait for a flash of inspiration. Zoe," he picked on me, as he had done in these situations for almost my whole life, "what do you think?"

"I think it's a little of both," I said, glancing from my father to Data and back. "I mean, personally, I could be inspired by anything. Right now, I could be incredibly inspired by authentic thin-crust pepperoni pizza." I waited for the soft chuckles that came from around the room to subside. "But even if there is a divine jump-start, if you don't have the foundation of hard work, it's just going to fizzle out."

"Well put," he said.

"May I just add, _Dad_ , that I really hate it when you get me to argue your side of a topic."

"Hardly a first for me. But you always manage to put your own spin on it."

"Hardly a first for _me_ ," I said, feeling much better. Nothing like intergenerational banter to put a smile on your face.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my daughter, Zoe," my father said, laughing. "Watch out for her… I have a feeling she'll be giving these lectures in a few years."

"Have your people call my people and we'll talk about it," I joked.

On my right, T'vek cheered, "Go, Zoe!" When I reached for his hand, afterward, he didn't let go.

The rest of the half-hour flew by, and then the concert began. I was surprised that the Dvorak cello concerto was on the program, because it seemed very serious for a pleasure planet, but the audience seemed to appreciate it, and after my initial reaction, I was very focused on the soloist's technique.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43857.22**

**(Wednesday, 9 November 2366, 9:17 PM, local time)**

**Musicplex Concert Hall, Serenity Five**

"Zoe, can you play like that?" Wes asked, during the intermission. "I know cello's your instrument, too." He meant it as a compliment, of sorts.

"Ask Data," I answered honestly. "I suck at self-assessments, and he knows better than anyone what I can do."

Having heard his name, our teacher excused himself from conversation with my mother and Kenash, and joined us. "Is there a problem?" he asked.

"Not at all," Wes assured him.

"Yeah," Josh said, "We just wanted to know if Zoe could play like that soloist."

"She said to ask you," Dana added.

I was studiously looking at the floor by now, but the truth was that I wanted to know what his answer would be. "We really only work on theory," I said softly, stepping closer to T'vek. Great, Zoe, seek protection from your boyfriend.

Data's answer surprised me. "While it is true that Zoe and I have been focusing on the theory and physics of music, I believe she is a competent musician, and my conversations with her other teachers support this conjecture. With practice," he said, and now he was directing his comments to me, and not the group, "you would perform quite well."

T'vek put his arm around my shoulders. "Guess Crusher's not the only whiz-kid in the group," he said smugly.

"Brat," I said to him, making the word an endearment. But in the next breath I added, directing the words to the android who was becoming more and more interesting to me as I got to know him better, "Thanks, Data. Coming from you, that means a lot."

We returned to our seats for the second half of the concert, and stuck around long enough for me to say goodbye to Dad and Gia, which involved hugs (some given more grudgingly than others) and promises of seeing them for Christmas, and then Data was ushering us back to the hotel.

I noticed that my mother seemed drawn and quiet on the way back, and nudged T'vek. "We need to give my mom the night off, somehow. Will you follow my lead?"

"Always," he grinned.

When we got to the lobby, I said, "Hey, Data…can T'vek and I talk to you a minute?"

"Of course," he said, leaving it to my mom and Kenash to get the rest of our group upstairs. "How can I help?"

I thought about trying to convince him that hosting a slumber party was an important human ritual, but decided to go for total honesty instead. "I don't know how much you were paying attention to the interpersonal dynamics in our group," I said, "but tonight was kind of hard for my mom. It's not easy meeting your soon-to-be-ex-husband's new girlfriend."

"Right," said T'vek. "And Zoe's mom has been pretty patient with us, so we thought maybe we could give her a break tonight."

"I do not understand," Data said, the hint of puzzlement underscoring his statement. "How can she be given a 'break' from being a chaperone?"

"We thought maybe we could all change into pajamas and crash your room," I said. "Order pizza and watch bad horror vids."

"Though that begs the question," T'vek teased. "Are there any _good_ horror vids?"

"Watch and _mock_ bad horror vids," I amended. "Please, Data? I know I was kind of a brat yesterday, but she's still my mother."

T'vek grinned, the expression dangerous on his face. "You could consider it an exploration of adolescent human rituals," he suggested to our teacher.

It was rare for Data to take time to think about a proposal, but in this case, he left us hanging for nearly half a minute. "Very well," he said slowly. "May I assume that one of you will be responsible for selecting the appropriate type and source of the pizza."

I clapped my hands. "I will," I said. "I am a pizza connoisseur."

T'vek laughed, "This, I have to see. We'll come a-knocking in about half an hour, Data." And he dragged me into the 'lift, stealing a kiss as soon as the doors closed. "Seriously, Zoe, a slumber party?"

"Best I could do on short notice. Besides, I'm dying to see if Data even owns pajamas."

"Are you _sure_ it's not him you're crushing on?" T'vek asked, and while I knew he was teasing me, something less-than-happy passed between us for a moment.

"I'm sure," I said. "He's my friend. You're my boyfriend. You know, the one I make out with in shuttlecraft corridors?"

He kissed me again and the weirdness was gone. "I vaguely recall something of the sort," he said.

"Maybe I should remind you," I teased. But, somehow, I couldn't help wondering if maybe he'd been a just a little bit right.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43857.55**

**(Thursday, 10 November 2366, 12:13 AM, local time)**

**Serenity Towers Hotel, Serenity Five**

I'm pretty sure Data never expected to have five teenagers sprawled across his bed, eating pizza, but we'd all decided that was the best place to be, and, as Wes pointed out, it wasn't like he was using it to sleep, or anything. I'd picked three pizzas from the place the hotel concierge recommended, and we'd all attacked them - my thin-crust pepperoni, T'vek's preferred plomeek with Rigellian pippali sauce, and a mushroom and olive for contrast.

"I cannot believe you are eating that," Dana said of T'vek's choice. "I can feel the heat from here."

"Lips that touch pippali are not touching mine," I sing-songed, backing up my best friend, and teasing my boyfriend in one sentence.

"Ugh! TMI," Josh said.

"You're just jealous."

"Data, have _you_ tried this foul… substance… that T'vek thinks is food?" I asked, bringing our host into the conversation. "I'd love to hear your reaction."

Wes challenged the android, "I'll try it if you will," and reached for a slice.

"Um," said Dana, "I _really_ don't think you want to do that."

Wesley shrugged. "It's just spice; how bad can it be?"

"On the Scoville scale," Data informed us, setting aside the padd he'd been working on, and coming over to the group, "Rigellian pippali has a rating in excess of two million."

"What's the Scoville scale?"

"It measures the heat equivalency of the capsaicin in peppers," I said. "It goes from normal bell peppers, which have a rating of basically nothing to 'I think I just saw the insides of my own nostrils' hot. Traditional pippali, from Earth, is pretty mild but has a nice bite, but that stuff," and I gestured to T'vek's pizza, " _that_ stuff could kill you." I looked at him and asked, "How do you even still have taste buds?"

"I'm special," he grinned, taking another slice of pizza and biting into it pointedly. "Sure you don't want some."

"I would cut my tongue out with a rusty spoon, first," I said.

"Fear, Zoe? Really?"

"Enlightened self-interest," I said.

But Wes was making good on _his_ pledge to try it, as was Data. The former began coughing and spluttering almost immediately. The latter merely raised an eyebrow, "I do not believe this is typical Rigellian pippali," he said.

"No," T'vek admitted. "It's not. It's extra-hot."

"Wesley, are you alright?" Data was suddenly extremely attentive, and Wes was turning shades of red I really hadn't thought were possible. "Do you require assistance?"

I bounced off the bed and moved to the replicator. "Milk, Terran cow, cold," I ordered, and brought the glass to Wes as soon as it shimmered into solidity. "Drink this; it'll help."

He grabbed the glass from my hand and started chugging, but it took him downing half of it before he could breathe normally again. "Wow!" he gasped. "Add that to the list of things I'm never doing again."

"Are you alright, Wesley?"

"Yeah, Data. I'm fine." He glanced at me. "Thanks, Zo'."

I shrugged, "I learned the same way you just did that water only spreads the fire. But… we _did_ warn you. I mean… I'm evil, Wes… but I'm never mean, you know?"

He grinned a bit sheepishly. "It's fine," he said. "I'm fine. Hey, Data, do you know if Commander Riker has been introduced to this stuff."

Data flashed Wes a look. "I do not advise that you attempt to find out."

"Yeah, okay."

We put the remnants of the pizza aside and started the vid we'd obtained. "Get ready to be scared," I said. "Classic 20th-century horror."

"Which one is this?" T'vek asked.

"My favorite: _A Nightmare on Elm Street_. It's about a serial killer who kills teenagers by invading their dreams, only if you die in your dream, you _really_ die. It's awesome."

By the time the vid had ended, Dana, Wes and Josh had all fallen asleep, the boys having moved to the other bed in Data's room so they could spread out more. Dana was on the bed next to me, and T'vek had taken all the cushions off the sofa in the main room and piled them between the beds.

My friends apparently didn't have bladders. Slipping off the bed, I padded to the bathroom, closing the door and locking it, and, just because I felt weird being not only in Data's hotel room, but with all my friends outside the door, turning on the exhaust fan, as well. I lingered as long as I dared, finally returning to the darkened bedroom. I could see Data sitting at the desk, in the main area of the suite, back at work on… something… and I couldn't help watching him for a minute.

Either android hearing was much better than I realized, or he caught a reflection of my movement. He turned around, and asked softly, "Is everything alright, Zoe?"

"I'm good," I said. "Should I wake everyone so we can get out of your hair?"

"I believe it would be more beneficial for you all to remain here," he said, "rather than disrupt your sleep cycles."

"Thanks for letting us take over your room."

"I enjoyed participating in a typical teenage ritual. I believe there is another aspect of it that has not yet been completed, however."

"Oh?"

"As the 'responsible adult' present, I believe it is my duty to ensure that you _all_ get a good night's sleep."

"You're telling me to go back to bed." It wasn't a question.

"Indeed," he said.

I grinned at that. "Good night, Data."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Scoville scale is the measure of heat (spice) in peppers. The version of A Nightmare on Elm Street that Zoe and her friends watch is the original 1984 version with Robert Englund as Freddy (Zoe has ways of getting ancient videos, and some stories never go entirely out of style.)


	10. Turning for Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on the runabout on the way home to the Enterprise, Zoe and Data have another session of late-night tea and conversation.

**Turning for Home**

**Stardate 43858.70**

**(Thursday, 10 November 2366, 10:13 AM, local time)**

**Serenity Five**

Our last day on Serenity Five began oddly, as we'd all crashed in Data's hotel room the night before, but once we were done with breakfast and back to the amusement park, things were approaching normalcy.

We were met at the gates by a little bird-like man  he actually had feathers instead of hair - whose name was not actually Fezziwig, though that was the closest any of us came to it. He led us into the control room for the rides, showing us how everything could be run by one person, though the optimum was one per ride.

Almost immediately, Wes began asking technical questions. "What kind of anti-grav generator do you use on the mag-coaster," was his first. His second was "how come there isn't a global kill switch?"

"Kill switch?" I whispered to T'vek.

"Think of it as a master override," he said softly, "in case of a serious fault."

Fezziwig's hearing was, apparently, almost as good as our teacher's. "Oh! Yes! There is a master override." He gestured to a large red button mounted on the wall right near the door. "We've never had to use it, but we test the system once a month, just in case." Once he started talking, he kept going, and eventually his chattering began to sound like birds to me. I set my padd to record everything, and tuned out most of the conversation, though I enjoyed seeing the mechanics of the rides.

After our tour, we all had lunch together, and then we were turned loose in the park again, but this time, the five of us kids dispersed - Josh and Dana had a shared interest in one of the anti-grav swing-sets, and T'vek and I were anxious to find out if the "Pirates of the Mutara Nebula" ride was really the ultimate make-out experience it was purported to be. (It was.)

Meanwhile, Wesley had struck up a conversation with one Fezziwig's assistants, and had been invited to actually run a couple of the rides. We felt bad leaving his on his own, but he insisted that he really wanted to hang out behind the scenes, so we let him.

By the time the park had closed, we were all pleasantly tired, and buzzing with ideas for the presentation we'd have to make once we were back on the _Enterprise_.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43859.37**

**(Thursday, 10 November 2366, 16:09 hours, ship's time)**

**_U.S.S. Ontario_ **

All too soon, we were back on the runabout for the journey home. Initially, we'd been scheduled to leave late on Friday morning, but the _Enterprise_ had contacted Data and my mother, and instructed us to leave on Thursday afternoon, instead. The great starship was en route in our direction, and instead of a three-day trip, we would be back aboard by midnight Friday night/Saturday morning.

Unlike our voyage to Serenity Five, this journey was free from complaints of boredom. Perhaps we were motivated by the desire to have our weekend untainted, but we all followed Wes's lead, and actually completed the homework assignments we'd received from our other teachers. Doing so in a group was, if not exactly fun, at least more interesting than sitting in my mother's quarters or on my bed, and we even managed a couple of lively debates about the material.

" _Please_ ," I said, as we were all working on essays about _Macbeth_ , the guy is a patsy. Lady Macbeth is the true power in the play. "

"Lady Macbeth is creepy," Dana objected. Blood and gore were really not her favorite things. "She keeps talking about wanting to smash babies."

"So, she can't be powerful _and_ crazy?" I asked. "But, you know," I said, dropping my voice to dramatic stage whisper, "there's a theory that both Macbeth _and_ Lady Macbeth are actually innocent of murder."

"You've got to be kidding," Wesley said. "They're walking around half the play with actual blood on their hands. No way is Macbeth innocent."

"Oh, no," I said. "I didn't mean to imply that Macbeth was pure or anything. I mean, he was a warrior - a soldier. Of course he killed people. But killing people in battle isn't the same as murder. I'm just saying Macbeth has a murder mystery wrapped up inside it, if you know where to look."

"I don't follow," Josh said, "What about the dagger, and hammering poor Banquo about where he's going all the time?"

I glanced around at each of my friends, though my look to T'vek was the shortest. He was smirking, and that smirk represented a valiant attempt not to laugh. "C'mon, Zo'," he said, once my gaze had moved beyond him, "Tell them where you're going with this."

I shrugged. "It's not so difficult to see," I said. "Consider who else is around."

"Macduff?" Wesley asked. "You can't believe that Macduff is really responsible for all the murders."

I rolled my eyes at him. "No, Wes," I said, in the sort of voice one might use to talk a crazy person off a ledge, "Macduff was just a red herring. No…I think the real murder is Lady Macbeth's father."

Data had assigned my mother to pilot the runabout for the first leg of our trip; and joined our conversation at that point. "Pardon the interruption," he began. "I have made a study of Shakespeare's work, and I am unfamiliar with any credible theory pointing to Lady Macbeth's father as a possible murderer."

At that point T'vek _did_ burst out laughing, and I smiled at my friends and our teacher, "Gotcha!"I sang. "Data, have you read any James Thurber? Look up 'The Macbeth Murder Mystery.'"

His answer was a head-tilt, followed by a classic, "Ah! James Thurber, author and humorist. I will let you know my thoughts after I analyze the story."

The look I gave him was a sort of non-verbal _touche'_ , and then I turned to my friends. "Seriously, it's worth reading. And Ms. Hemery will never expect us to be familiar with it. Thurber's kind of…ancient history."

"How do _you_ know about it then?" Dana asked.

I just grinned. "Theatre brat, remember?"

**(=A=)**

The rest of the afternoon and evening went by fairly quickly. The five of us had come to a tacit understanding that we wanted to surprise Data with our presentation, so while we discussed some of it in whispers, when he was busy in the cockpit, we mainly started doing our own sections of the work.

The curse of an active imagination is that I've always been prone to nightmares. Maybe it was from the emotional turmoil of my parents announcing their divorce, or maybe it was just talking about MacBeth, but I woke from a nightmare in the wee hours of Friday morning.

Desperate to be somewhere with bright light, and unwilling to wake Mom or Dana, both of whom were still asleep, I slipped out of my bunk and padded out to the main room. Kenash and the boys had long since retired to their bunkroom, as well, and the common area was empty.

Data heard me coming, and left the cockpit to join me. "Is everything all right, Zoe?"

"Sorry to bother you," I said softly. "Had a nightmare. Needed light. And tea. Is that okay?"

"Of course." There was a pause, during which I walked over to the replicator. "Do you wish to join me in the cockpit, as you did before?"

"Only if I won't distract you."

"You will not," he said. "I enjoyed our last conversation."

That made me smile. "Me, too." I gestured toward the replicator, "Do _you_ want anything?"

His return smile was a bit awkward, as was the cadence when he answered, "I will have… whatever you are having."

"Right," I joked. "Two Pan-Galactic Gargle-Blasters coming up."

"I am not familiar with that nomenclature."

I shook my head. "No, you wouldn't be. It's a reference to a truly ancient piece of science fiction. Reference Douglas Adams." I faced the replicator and requested tea, licorice root and hyssop, hot, with honey. I handed one of the mugs to him, and followed him back to the cockpit. "Do you dream, Data?" I asked after I was seated in empty co-pilot's chair.

"I do not require sleep," he told me honestly. "As such, I do not know whether or not I am capable of dreaming."

"You must have a lot of spare time to fill. It must be nice not to ever feel bored or lonely."

"While it is true that I cannot 'feel lonely,'" he said, surprising me with his candor. "It is also true that I prefer to share my time with others when I can. However," and now he was teasing me, a little, "I have sometimes found myself wishing there were more hours in a day, if only because I have to disengage from personal projects to report to my duty station."

I sipped from the mug I'd been cradling. "Am I one of them? One of your personal projects? Our Saturday Sessions, I mean."

"Zoe…"

"Data…" I mimicked his tone. "It's okay if I am, you know. I was just being nosy."

"We seem to share that trait, though I prefer to call it 'curiosity.'"

I laughed softly. "Yeah, I guess we do. As well as a tendency to surprise people. You especially. First music theory, then midnight tea, and even a slumber party. You'd be an awesome father."

"Thank you." His voice was softer when he said it. "Not many would agree with you."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience." I vaguely recalled that he'd had an android child and that something horrible had happened, but I'd never known the details.

He met my eyes, and said simply, "I am."

My own eyes widened. "See, told you I was nosy," I said, trying to relieve the sudden tension. More seriously, I added, "I think I actually knew that… or heard it anyway, that you had a daughter. I'm sorry for prying."

"Your query was not unreasonable," he said.

"I'd love to know more about her," I said, not entirely sure why I was asking. Maybe something in me sensed he needed to talk? Maybe, selfishly, I just wanted to extend the time I was spending with him?

In any case, I'd learned enough about Data, by then, to understand that he rarely had to 'think things through' before responding. Or at least, he rarely had to do so in any perceptible fashion. So when he was quiet for more than thirty seconds, I drained my mug and started to leave. His voice stopped me, "Her name was Lal," he told me, in a tone not much louder than a whisper. He added the confirmation, "She was my daughter."

His use of _was,_ _combined with the faint change in his facial expression,_ made it obvious that something horrible had happened. "Tell me?" I asked, a bit shyly, but he was already talking, so I just returned to my seat and listened as he told me about her creation, her awakening into sentience, and then her acquisition of emotions.

On my teacher's - no, my _friend'_ s - behalf, my eyes got teary when he spoke of her death (though he called it 'deactivation') and I found myself clenching my fist in anger as he talked about Admiral Haftel's attempt to take her away from him.

I wanted to make it better, I wanted to wave a wand and bring her back for him. I wanted…a lot of things, really. I didn't have any words to offer, so I got up and crossed the small space between our chairs. "I'm going to do something you might find a little inappropriate, Data. You can yell at me later."

His eyes darted back and forth in birdlike confusion, but I'd made my decision. I leaned over his chair and hugged him. "You _were_ an awesome father," I said, turning my earlier supposition into fact. "Never doubt that."

He met my embrace awkwardly, held it for a moment, then lowered his arms. "You should get some rest, Zoe," he said. "I suspect that late night tea and conversation with you may become a habit."

"Oh, I hope so." I said, grinning. "G'night, Data."

"Sleep well, Zoe."

I returned both our mugs to the replicator and hit the recycle button, then returned to my bunk. When I went back to sleep, all of my dreams were peaceful ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pan-Galactic Gargle-Blasters are, of course, a drink mentioned in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams. "The Macbeth Murder Mystery" is a short story by James Thurber, and is both funny and fascinating. Data references the events of "The Offspring."


	11. Back in the Saddle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on the Enterprise, Zoe's Saturday Sessions (music theory with Data) are moved to a new location, and she receives an invitation.

**Back in the Saddle…**

**Stardate 43864.11**

**(Saturday, 12** **November 2366, 09:40 hours, ship's time)**

Saturday morning came too soon after our return to the _Enterprise._ We'd arrived home before midnight, and I'd crashed pretty much immediately, but days of less-than-optimal sleep had caught up with me, and I woke, not to the alarm I'd set for eight-thirty, but to the comm-system's insistent chime telling me I had a message waiting.

"Mom," I called as I rolled out of bed. "Are you here?"

The lack of an answer reminded me that she was on duty, making up shifts she'd traded in order to be one of the field trip chaperones.

"Computer," I called out, "play message, please."

Over the comm, I heard Data's voice reminding me that we had a Saturday Session scheduled, but that we would be meeting in his quarters, rather than in our usual conference room, due to a group of visiting diplomats who required the use of our usual space. I sent back an acknowledgement, and learned that I had less than twenty minutes to get ready.

Dressing hastily, I grabbed the first clothes I could find – I hadn't unpacked from the trip to Serenity Five, so those items were out. Eventually, I ended up wearing an old, soft, faded t-shirt from the community theater production of _Annie_ I'd done when I was eleven, the jeans from the day before, and flip-flops (because shoes would have taken too long). My hair, I twisted into a rough knot and tucked into a gray watch-cap I'd stolen from my father. Thus prepared, I stuck my padd in the back pocket of my gig-bag, left a note for T'vek telling him where I was, picked up my cello, and left.

I was in the turbo-lift before I realized that I hadn't eaten and that I had no idea where I was going. "Computer, location of Commander Data's quarters?" I asked, and when it responded, I gave my destination: "Deck eight."

Wesley Crusher was in the corridor when I stepped out of the 'lift. "Interesting outfit," he observed, staring at my t-shirt. It had been too big for years. Lately it had become a fraction tighter than 'just right.'

I shrugged, "I was late. It was easy."

He started to brush by me into the lift, but I called out, "Hey, Wes, wait?"

"Sure…why?"

"I have a music lesson with Data, and I've never been to his quarters before. Which way do I go?" I knew I could have asked the computer, but… maybe it was time to embrace new friends.

"I thought you two usually met on the bridge level?"

"We do," I said. "Data's message said there were diplomats or something. You'd know more than I do." I hesitated, then added, "I wanted to ask you something anyway."

"I'll walk you to Data's, if you want," he offered. "And we can talk… I wanted to ask you something, too."

"Um… okay." I said. "You first?"

We turned down the corridor, and followed the curve around. "It's Annette's birthday in a few days. I know you're her friend. I want to get her something, but I'm not sure what…"

"She loves earrings," I informed him. "Prefers silver to gold, favorite stone is opal. But, Wes… if you don't mind me saying so, what she really wants is… you."

His eyes grew wide - really wide. "You mean - "

"No!" I said, "Not _want-_ want. Just… she can't tell if you like her as a friend or a girlfriend. And don't you _dare_ tell her I told you that."

"I won't," he said. "So, I should ask her out, right? But we've been out."

"You've been on one date, and you shared a table with T'vek and me. Ask her out again, and go alone. Tell her you want to go steady. No, wait, don't say that… nobody says that anymore. Just... tell her you wanna be official. I mean… if you do. Do you?"

He blushed, which was kind of adorable in a cute-puppy-little-brother kind of way, despite the fact that he was actually at least a year older than I was. "Yeah," he said, "I do."

"Then tell her."

He stopped in front of a door and gestured to it. "We're here," he said. "Thanks Zoe." He started to leave then paused. "You said you wanted to ask me something."

"It's silly… but… I kind of need a primer."

"A primer?"

"On Starfleet ranks and hierarchies and things. I mean, I know some, but I don't typically pay attention to most of it. Mom got a promotion and if Dana hadn't clued me in, I'd never have realized. I guess, I'm asking for Starfleet 101. You game?" I grinned at him and used my best wheedling tone, "I'll help you pick out a pair of earrings that Annette is guaranteed to love."

He grinned back at me. "Yeah, okay, I'm game."

I gestured to the door he'd indicated, noting the placard with Data's name and rank next to it. "Is it weird, me having a lesson here?" I asked. But I didn't let him answer, instead saying, "Theory with Data usually takes about two hours. If you don't have an elsewhere you need to be, meet me here, after?"

"Okay," he said. "And thanks."

He left and I reached for the door signal, but the door slid open before I could activate it, and Commander LaForge stepped out still chatting with Data about something. "Hi," I said, rather lamely.

"Oh, sorry, Zoe - it is Zoe, right?" Geordi said, teasing. "Almost didn't recognize you with the hat."

"It gives me magical stealth abilities" I said too-brightly. "Not easy when you're carrying an instrument nearly as big as you are. If you and Data are busy, I can leave, but he didn't say anything about rescheduling…"

He smiled at me. "Naah, he's been waiting for you to show up. Play well."

"Thanks," I said.

He stepped aside so I could move my cello through the door, and walked down the corridor. I, on the other hand, hesitated, suddenly feeling really out of place. "Zoe," Data said, coming toward me from where he'd been sitting behind a seriously impressive-looking computer station. "Please come in."

I moved enough for the door to close behind me. "Hi," I said after a few beats. "Sorry. I just… Data, is it okay for me to be here? Alone in a room with you?"

He seemed completely unaware of any potential awkwardness. "We are typically alone in a room at this time on Saturday mornings," he said gently. "I do not understand the dilemma. Please sit down and unpack your cello while you explain?"

He gestured to where chairs had been set up in our usual configuration.

I went and unpacked at the same time that I said, "Yeah, we're usually alone, but we're not usually here. I mean, this is where you _live_." What I couldn't explain was that in seeing his art, his shelves of keepsakes - even his bed as the door to the sleeping area was open - I suddenly felt like I'd leveled up to a degree of intimacy that bordered on inappropriate.

Data cocked his head, the way he often did when he was confused by something, though I'd noticed he'd been doing it less and less. "I do not understand."

I stared at him for a long moment. "You have a fifteen-year-old girl alone in your quarters and you don't think that's weird?"

"Should it be?" he countered. "As we have established you are both my student and my friend. Increasing your understanding of musical theory is a joint project for which we have a standing appointment. The only element that has changed since our last session together is the location, and that is only because our usual meeting place is being otherwise used."

My own head-tilt was really not meant as mockery. "Really?" I asked.

"Really," he said mildly. "However, if you are uncomfortable being here, we can reschedule."

I thought about it for a minute. On the one hand, it would be less awkward, on the other the only one who was perceiving awkwardness was me, on yet another hand (apparently I was Beeblebroxian that day), his quarters themselves were not unwelcoming. I allowed myself a moment to daydream of being curled on his couch with a book while he worked on… something. Finally, I said, "No. No, I'm here now, and I've already wasted enough of your time dithering. You had me playing with the acoustic differences of different bow positions, last time…"

The hours I spent with Data weren't meant to be lessons in technique, only in theory, and yet we always ended up playing after, or during, the math-and-physics portion of the class, because I always learned better from a hands-on approach. (He called it 'practical,' of course.) On that particular Saturday he cut the theory part of our session short. "I wish to make a proposal," he said, tapping something into the digital music stand in front of me.

Those stands were great devices - a music stand with a built-in padd for displaying sheet music that you could still annotate with a stylus. No page turning. No pencil marks all over your hands. And better yet? You never had to worry about having enough light. I set my cello on its side on the floor, and studied the music he'd called up. "This is a quartet," I said.

"Yes," he agreed. "My quartet has been practicing it with the intent of performing it in Ten-Forward in the coming weeks, however, Lieutenant Gutierrez lacks the thorough grounding in the fundamentals that the piece requires, and Chief O'Brien has been busy with… personal pursuits."

I grinned. I'd seen the Chief hanging around in the arboretum more than once, and suspected that Keiko Ishikawa was the reason. The botanist had become a sort of friend to me – almost an older sister – and I often sought her out when I needed to get away from too much tech. Returning my attention to the music, I studied it, and nodded. "It's a tricky piece. Dad conducted the Perihelion Quartet playing it a few years ago. You want me to understudy your cellist?"

"No," Data said. "I want you to replace him."

"Have you considered asking Seth Starker instead? He has way more real-world performance experience than I do." Seth was my actual cello teacher on the ship. I wasn't always comfortable with him – he had this creepy vibe I had yet to pin down – but he was an excellent technician.

"That is true," Data agreed. "But Lieutenant Starker does not have the available time needed to learn the piece. As well, I do not believe he will be able to attain the necessary level of 'meshy-ness' required to perform as part of a quartet." He used the word I'd made up months before. I wondered if that was good or bad.

"And I can?" I asked. "You really believe I can?"

"I have heard you play many more difficult passages with competence and skill that belie your youth. As well, while your performance experience may be limited, you yourself have pointed out that you grew up 'eating, sleeping, and breathing music and theater.'"

"I hate it when you use my own words against me." I groused, half-kidding. "But since we still have some time, we may as well try the piece and see what levels of suckitude I actually sink to."

To his credit, Data didn't comment on that. Instead, he just picked up his violin, and began to play.

**(=A=)**

We were still playing an hour and a half later when his door chime sounded, and Wes's voice piped over the speaker, "Data? It's Wes and T'vek. Is Zoe still with you?"

"One moment," he called. "We have gone over our scheduled time," he said softly to me. "I am sorry for keeping you."

"You didn't," I said. "I mean, yeah, we went over time, but that's the most challenging thing I've played in forever. I'd forgotten how much fun it is, to attack something new."

"Is Lieutenant Starker not challenging you?"

"Well, not musically, anyway." I answered him without thinking, as I zipped my cello back into its soft, black, bag.

"Zoe, please elaborate." Suddenly his tone was deadly serious.

I shook my head. "It's nothing, really… I mean… nothing I can really explain. Sometimes it's like he's looking at me funny, but then he turns his head and everything's just normal." I looked away from the warm yellow eyes that were trying to hold my gaze. "I'd never have been comfortable having a lesson in _his_ quarters," I confessed softly, but then I forced my voice into its more usual, bright tone, "Anyway, you asked if he was challenging me, and the answer to that question is no, he's not, but it's not like I have any other options. There aren't any other qualified cello teachers on the ship. May I go now? The guys are waiting…"

As if on cue the door chime sounded again. This time, Data called out "Enter." And T'vek and Wes came in. Before they could say anything, though, he continued, "Zoe, If Lieutenant Starker has done anything to make you feel uncomfortable, you can tell me."

I nodded, "I know, Data. I promise I will, okay?" He nodded, and then I looked past him to T'vek and Wes. "Sorry to make you wait. We kind of got caught up in the music. It was _awesome._ "

"Wes said we have a shopping date?" T'vek came to take my cello from me, ever-chivalrous.

"Mmhmm. To pick Annette's birthday gift. But can we grab lunch first? I skipped breakfast in order to meet Data on time, and music may soothe the savage breast, but it doesn't do a whole lot for a growly stomach."

"I could eat," T'vek agreed amiably. "Wes?"

"I guess." He glanced over at Data, and then back at me.

I rolled my eyes at Wes and refrained - barely - from pointing out that he worked with the man, and should therefore be clueful enough to invite him. Turning to my friend and future quartet partner, I asked, "Data, do you want to be our adult escort into Ten-Forward, or have you had enough teenaged company for one day?"

"I would be glad to accompany you," he answered. "If only to ensure that you do not miss another meal. However, you would be well advised to stop by your quarters and change to something more appropriate, as well as…"

"...drop off my cello. Yeah. I know. Twenty minutes?" I asked. "T'vek and I will meet you both there, but… can we declare a moratorium on talking about anything to do with warp propulsion, starship mechanics, or anything remotely similar? Otherwise, I'm bringing a book along, and I won't hesitate to rudely read in all your faces."

"We will endeavor to keep the conversation inclusive," Data agreed for all of them. "Twenty minutes."

T'vek and I left, and even though he was still carrying my cello, he also caught my hand with his free one. "Why did you do that?" he asked, as we entered my door.

"Invite Data? Because we were in his quarters, and it would have been rude not to. And because I need a buffer if I'm with both you and Wes. Wait here, I'll go change." I went into my bedroom, leaving him in the living room with my cello. "I'm sorry. I know we've barely had any time alone together since getting back to the ship." It hadn't even been twenty-four hours, but still…

"It's alright," he said. "There's always time. Besides, you're happiest when you're doing something artsy. I like seeing you happy." He was quiet for a moment, and I returned from changing into a different shirt (solid, turtleneck, purple) and real shoes. I ruffled his hair as I passed him, intending to update the note for my mother. "You sound like you're warming up to Crusher."

"The only person I want to _warm up to_ is you," I said in my best flirtatious voice. "But you and Dana can't be my only friends, and it makes sense to cultivate other… resources."

"I thought you said you weren't nefarious?"

"I also said I was often devious."

We both laughed at that, and then he kissed me. "I like devious," he said softly. "C'mon, we'll be late."

We didn't run… exactly.

**(=A=)**

True to his word, Data directed the mealtime conversation to topics that had nothing to do with starship operations. Instead, we discussed birthday traditions, favorite presents, and things of that nature. I was left with the dual impression that he was taking notes for later use, and that no one had ever celebrated his birthday, or whatever equivalent he might have had.

After lunch, we thanked Data for his time and company, and the three of us went to the replication center to 'shop' for Annette's earrings.

"You don't have to come," I told my boyfriend. "We're hanging out later, aren't we?"

"I've got nothing pressing to do," he said. "Unless my parents decide they need me." And of course, that jinxed it, and his mother called him home. "Later," he said, sighing. "Promise." We stole another couple of kisses before he left.

"Okay, let's go shopping," I said to Wes. "Do you have any other plans for Annette's birthday? Because I have an idea, if you're interested."

"Sure," he said.

"I think, instead of just turning in a report and computer simulations to Data, we should actually execute our amusement park ideas on the holodeck, and invite our friends and families to experience them."

We were looking at jewelry at that point, and I watched as Wes's face was transformed by a slow smile. "That," he said, "would be fantastic. We could even ask Ms. Phelps if we could combine it with our presentations for Speech and do a whole marketing campaign."

I grinned, "I was thinking the same thing. We could even make a video trailer and send it to select people as an invitation. But the project's due on Wednesday, and we'll need at least three more to program it, won't we? Assuming we even can?" I leaned over the display we were both browsing, and tapped two buttons. "Those. You should get Annette those. You should also make sure you take her on the Ferris wheel."

"We didn't design a Ferris wheel."

"We should add one."

"Why?"

"If you have to ask," I teased, "you shouldn't be getting a girl earrings."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Data's quarters have never been on deck 8 in canon, but all the other line officers are supposed to be on that deck, so I put his quarters there. I also gave him quarters that suit his rank and position, rather than the tiny little boxes he's often depicted as having. 'Beeblebroxian' refers to Zaphod Beeblebrox, from The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy – he has three arms when we meet him. Requiring an adult escort into Ten-Forward probably really only applies to kids a bit younger than Zoe and her friends, but it's a convenient excuse to put people together. Revised 2 March 2016 to fix timeline issues and expand some of the dialogue between Zoe and Wes and Zoe and Data.


	12. Conversations in 3/4 Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe rehearses with Data's quartet for the first time. And a lot of little conversations occur.

  **Stardate 43878.55**

**(Thursday, 17 November 2366, 16:06 hours, ship's time)**

"So we're all agreed, then?" T'vek asked. He, Wes, Dana, Josh and I were in the living area of the family quarters Wes and his mother shared. Most of our group meetings had taken place in the quarters I shared with _my_ mother, but she had been on a weird shift rotation ever since we'd all returned from our field trip, and the last thing she needed was a pack of pesky teenagers taking over her living room. "We're going with a masquerade theme and putting our rides in the context of a steampunk carnival?"

"I'm all for it," I said, "and _not_ just because it was my idea. But I think we might need a little help with the actual holodeck programming parts of our plan. I mean, the ride designs, we've worked out, but adding the steampunk overlay…"

Dana added, "We're also going to need extra time. There's no way we'll be ready by class-time tomorrow. Wes, do you think Data will give us an extension?"

Wes thought about it for a moment. "Probably, if we ask him tonight. Zoe, you're his favorite… the request should come from you."

I nearly choked on the cranberry juice I was drinking. "Favorite? Me? Hardly. Besides, Wes sees him on the bridge every day..." I turned to him. "So you should ask him. You're not just teacher and student; you're friends… and colleagues."

"I'm pretty sure Data has you in the 'friend' category, too, Zoe," Wes said. "Besides, I think it would be better if I'm the one who consults our holodeck consultant."

"Holodeck consultant?" Josh asked. "You mean your mom, don't you? She's programmed some pretty awesome set designs…"

But Wes was already shaking his head. "Nope," he said. "I mean Lt. Barclay."

"Barclay?" Dana queried. "Isn't he the one you nicknamed 'Broccoli?'"

"Oh, god, I've heard of him," I said. "Shy, nervous, prematurely balding, habitually late…"

"He's also the best holodeck programmer on the ship," Wesley pronounced in a tone that allowed no argument. "Well, except for Geordi and Data, but we can't ask them."

"I vote for Zoe talking to Data about time, and Wes consulting Barclay, then," T'vek suggested.

"I agree," Dana said. "Meanwhile Josh and I will work on the graphics for the video invitation."

T'vek grinned, "And I," he said, "will complete the draft of our report, but I think Zoe should do the final proof-reading of the part that gets our English grade."

"Dana's a better writer than I am," I said, by way of a protest.

"But you have a way of using language that makes everything sound fresh and interesting," my best friend countered.

"I knew you only loved me for my knowledge of slang and pop-culture," I quipped to my friends, and we all burst out laughing. When we'd sobered a bit, I promised, " I have quartet rehearsal with Data and the rest of his group tonight; I'll ask him then."

"And I'll be in engineering tomorrow, so I can talk to Barclay."

"And on that note," Josh said, "I'm out of here. Dana, you're still coming over for dinner, right?"

Dana blushed, but confirmed "I'll see you in a couple of hours."

"We should probably all go. I need to check in with my mother and grab my cello. Wes, thank your mom for letting us take over her living space?"

"Sure," he said. "Honestly, she's just happy I'm spending time with people my own age."

I shot him a rueful grin, but didn't admit that we shared the tendency to gravitate toward adults rather than our actual peers. It was the typical curse of the only child. I turned off my padd and stood up to go. "T'vek, wanna walk me home?"

"As if you have to ask," he said. He, too got up, and we left the Crusher quarters together. Outside their door, he caught hold of my hand. "Your mother is on night watch tonight, isn't she?" he asked.

"Mmhmm."

"So, if I were to stop by about…oh, say…nine?"

I gave him a sidelong glance and used my best coy voice. "I might be available…  alone. I mean, if quartet rehearsal really is only two hours. It's my first time playing with these people. Your parents won't mind, though?"

"As long as I'm home by midnight, they're cool," he said.

I grinned. "Nine, then." We continued walking down the corridor, and into the turbo-lift, hand in hand. At my door, we shared a kiss. "See you later, Tev."

"Bye, Zoe."

**(=A=)**

I was happy to find my mother both home and awake when I entered our quarters. She'd been working a lot of late shifts since our return from Serenity Five. I knew it was payback for some of the shift juggling, but even so, I missed her working a nice, predictable day shift. "Hey," I greeted her, grinning. "Want to have a ridiculously early dinner with your favorite daughter?"

She smiled back at me over the top of the padd she was reading. "I could be persuaded to take you to the lounge for dinner if you want," she offered.

I shook my head. "Tempting as that sounds, I think we'd better eat here. Remember I told you Data invited me to take over the cello part in his string quartet?" She nodded and I continued. "Well, there's a rehearsal tonight – my first with the group - and I don't want to have to race back to grab my cello."

"You've been spending a lot of time with him," my mother observed.

"Have I?" I asked. "We've barely been back for a week, but except for quartet being added to the schedule, I see him about as much as I did before: three days a week for class and Saturday mornings for music."

"If you say so," my mother said. She set the padd aside and moved toward the replicator unit on the far wall. "Fettuccini with pesto?" she asked.

"Sure."

"Zoe, honey, I don't want you to feel like there's something wrong with your friendship with Commander Data. I just worry that you're taking too much of his time."

"I kind of worry that, too," I confessed. "He keeps assuring me I'm not." I began to set the table without being asked. "I spend a lot of time with T'vek, too," I pointed out. "Are you concerned about that, as well?"

"Actually, yes," she admitted. "But in a different way. The two of you seem so intense when you're together."

"Intense?" I asked. "Us?"

"Mmhmm. He's a nice boy, and I trust you both, but Zoe, you're very young."

"Mom," I interrupted. "You make it sound like I'm eight years old."

"I know you're not eight," she said, setting steaming bowls of pasta on the table, and then directing the machine to dispense beverages. "But fifteen is a difficult age. You're not a child, but you're not quite a grown woman, and even though the ship is safe, all of you young people are unsupervised a lot…"

"I'll be sixteen in two months," I pointed out. "And you don't have to worry. T'vek and I aren't doing anything we aren't ready for." I sat down at the table with her, but my unspoken 'yet' was hanging over the entire meal.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43878.88**

**(Thursday, 17 November 2366, 19:00 hours, ship's time)**

Unlike my music theory lesson of a few days before, the quartet rehearsal took place in the multi-purpose room most often configured as a theater. I was a little nervous, but a video chat with my father had helped calm my nerves a bit, as did the knowledge that Data would never have asked me to join his group if he didn't think I was good enough.

He introduced me to everyone, and then we began to work through the music, first playing each piece straight through, then going over each section, agreeing on bow positions, and fine-tuning tricky passages. I was grateful that he'd given me the piece during our Saturday Session (I'd started capitalizing my term for our tutorial in my head.), because at least I wasn't playing it cold.

I was also relieved to learn that I wasn't the worst player in the group.

After our two-hour session was over, the viola player, Lt. Commander Cressida ("Call me 'Cress'") Parish, flashed me an approving look, and said, "I have to admit, Zoe, when Data said he was bringing in his protégé, I was a little concerned, but you impressed me tonight."

"Um…thanks, I guess. Data's theory tutorial is helping my playing more than my formal lessons with Seth." I mused aloud, adding, "For that matter, it's been helping my voice lessons go more smoothly, too."

Her smile softened. "You must be pretty special, to have attracted Data's attention. Who's Seth?"

"Seth Starker… Lieutenant Starker, I guess, is how you'd know him, if you did. He's not a bad musician but he's kind of… sometimes he creeps me out." I glanced across the room to where Data and the second violinist, Lt. Dennis Rai, were still in discussion about the right way to play a particular passage. "Data's pretty special too, I guess." I said softly. Then I grinned. "My boyfriend says he likes it when we go out right after a theory lesson because I'm always jazzed after doing 'something artsy.'"

"Sounds like a smart boy. Who is he?"

"His name is T'vek Mairaj, and he's _also_ pretty special."

She just smiled in that knowing way that adults often do when confronted by teenagers. Then she picked up her instrument case, and left the room. Dennis followed her soon after, and I moved to zip my cello back into its gig-bag. I had a hard case, of course, but the lighter, fabric, bag was easier when navigating corridors and turbo-lifts. Data came over to me as I was finishing.

"You played well tonight," he said. "You seem to mesh well with the rest of the quartet. Are you comfortable with continuing as our cellist?"

"I'd like that," I answered, standing up. "Cress called me your protégé before she left. Is that a bad thing?"

Data seemed to analyze the word. "An appropriate, if not altogether accurate term. Do you object to it?" His head-tilt, that time, only conveyed that he was curious about my response.

I shrugged. "I don't know…do you?" My padd, which I'd stuck in the back pocket of my gig bag, chimed a reminder of the time. "Aww, crap."

"Is there a problem?"

I sighed. "Only that T'vek and I have a sort-of date at nine, and I'm going to be late and haven't asked you…" I stopped. "Never mind."

Data raised his eyebrows at me. "Have I not made it clear that your questions are always welcome, Zoe?"

"Yes, but…"

"Ah," he said, in an apparent flash of understanding. "You do not wish to be late for your assignation with T'vek."

"Assignation? Seriously? That makes it sound kind of…dirty."

"I did not mean it that way."

"I know."

"Come, I will escort you back to your quarters via a somewhat shorter route than you are likely to know."

"Much less awkward than trying to run with this thing."

"Agreed." He headed out the door, carrying his violin, which he'd replaced in its case while we'd been talking. "And you can ask your question while we walk."

"It's two questions now," I said, following him into the corridor. "The first one is on behalf of the entire math tutorial. We wanted to ask if we could delay presentation of our project to next Friday, instead of tomorrow."

"Are you having difficulties with the assignment?"

"Me personally, or the group collectively?"

"I meant the group, but if you are having trouble with the work – "

"I'm not," I was quick to correct him. "I mean, I'm not likely to stop grumbling about it any time soon, because I am _never_ going to like math – sorry, but it's true – and I probably have to work harder than everyone else, but the challenge isn't going to kill me or anything. Anyway, I meant the group. And no, we're not having difficulties, exactly."

He was leading me down corridors I didn't recognize, turning left where I'd have thought going right made more sense – note to self, ask for a map of the ship – but seemed to still be paying attention. Nevertheless, he didn't respond until we'd entered a turbo-lift and he'd told the computer where to send it. "Why do you require more time?"

"We chose to broaden the scope of our assignment. Our English teacher agreed that if we created marketing materials for our virtual amusement park, we could get extra credit – God, we sound like a bunch of nerdy over-achievers – and we want to present our report in a more…" I stopped, because he was staring at me as if I'd grown a second head. "What?"

"You typically use a much more casual mode of speech, even in class. Why are you not doing so now?"

"How is it that you can tell when I'm changing my speech patterns – I was attempting to be professional, by the way – but you don't understand why I felt weird when you moved my theory lesson to your quarters?"

"Do you wish me to answer that?"

"Not really," I muttered. "Although in a roundabout way, you just did. Anyway, we'd like to give our presentation a bit more pizzazz, and to do that we need extra time, and please don't ask me to elaborate, because we want to surprise you, and that is _not_ an easy thing to accomplish." I paused, since the turbo-lift seemed to be taking a while. "Where, exactly, does your shorter route take us?"

"We will be crossing the bridge and taking the lift on that side," Data told me matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me, I think I went deaf a little. Did you just say the bridge? Isn't that the place people like me are allowed only pretty much never?"

It was Data's turn to be surprised. "You have really never seen the _Enterprise_ bridge?"

"Hello, have you met me? The girl who goes out of her way to _not_ understand rank hierarchies and thinks uniforms are barely one step above mixing plaids and stripes on the Giant List of Fashion Don'ts?" But I knew he was being serious, so I added, in a much softer tone. "Don't rat me out to my friends, but I might be a lot more interested than I let on, and I vaguely remember there being a tour about a week before I started in your tutorial, except I didn't go."

"I will not 'rat you out,' but perhaps the next time a tour is offered you should avail yourself of the opportunity. If we were not trying to save time I would invite you to observe for a while."

"Is that even allowed?" It had never occurred to me that _watching_ people at work on the bridge of a starship was possible. I'd hung around Mom's work, but mostly she just had a workroom with ancient texts, artifacts, and a bunch of computers. Even on the ship, there was a limit to what there was to _see_ where her job was concerned. I knew that Data sometimes had command of the bridge overnight; suddenly I wanted to see what he was like when he was in full-on 'officer-mode.'

"If an officer invites you, yes." The lift doors opened, and there we were, and suddenly I couldn't move, not because I cared about the consoles and controls, but because the view on the main screen was just fantastic. "Zoe, in order to cross the bridge, you must first exit the turbo-lift." He took my cello from me. "Follow me, please."

I wanted to stay and look at the view on the huge screen forever, but at the same time, seeing people doing their jobs brought me back to reality. "Sorry," I said. I followed him across the back – back? – section of the bridge, which really reminded me of just a modified cockpit – only bigger – and into the lift on the opposite side. Once the door closed, he gave the deck order, and I just stared at him. "You see that view every day?" I asked.

"Not precisely _that_ view," he corrected. "But essentially, yes."

"How do you ever get anything done?"

"I have assigned duties I am required to complete. The relative aesthetic qualities of the view do not impact that." His answer came with no sense of irony, just his normal, matter-of-fact, you-ask-I-answer response.

"Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"That question, you weren't supposed to answer."

"Ah."

"Sorry." I waited a beat. "May I have my cello back now?"

He set it down, holding it steady until I'd looped my arm through one of the straps. "May I assume that you found something of merit in your brief visit to the bridge?"

"Maybe." I admitted. "Please don't be offended, but most of the time when I'm with you, I forget you're an officer, and just see my tutor, or a fellow musician… or my friend." I wasn't entirely sure why that made him smile, but the expression spread slowly across his face.

"I am not offended," he said mildly. I was half-expecting him to tell me that he _couldn't_ be offended, but he chose not to go there, just then.

The lift doors opened and I realized we were in the junction closest to my mother's quarters. "Wait, how did we get here?"

"I told you that it would be a route you were unlikely to know."

"Has anyone ever told you that you have an annoying tendency to be right all the time?" I was only partly kidding.

"Yes," he said. "Quite often, in fact."

I rolled my eyes at him, and was about to make another snarky comment, but then we were at my door, where T'vek was slouched against the bulkhead, waiting. "Hey," I said. "Sorry I'm late."

"Actually," T'vek said, "you're not. Hello, Data."

"Greetings," he said, as if it was a default response. For all I knew, it was. He met my eyes, and said, "Thank you for the conversation." Then he added, "I will see you both in class tomorrow." He turned and walked away at a brisk pace.

I thrust my cello into T'vek's arms, and went after him. "Data, wait." He stopped and turned expectantly. "Do we get the extra time?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "One week from Friday. I will look forward to being… surprised."

The smile that spread across my face just then was only for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started writing Crush I wasn't really paying attention to exactly where things fell in the series, and I didn't even start timestamping anything until I started writing the Borg episodes which happen over Zoe's Christmas break. At some point, I realized that this story was more than just a lark, and I really wanted to explore what it was like to be a civilian involved with Starfleet, so I made into the close canon-AU it is now, but the Stardates (which are arbitrary, anyway) in this chapter and the next few are slightly off where they should be. However, the episodes are still in order.


	13. Tilt-a-Whirl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe and her friends make their presentation, but Data isn't there. Also? Tev and Zoe get into a little bit of mischief.

**Stardate 43894.25**

**(Wednesday, 23 November 2366, 09:40 hours, ship's time)**

Two days before the extended due-date for our project, I showed up to my math tutorial twenty minutes early, carrying a box wrapped in purple tissue paper and adorned with gold ribbon. Each of us had already presented similar boxes to our parents. Wes would be sharing more of them with the Captain and our friend – his kind-of girlfriend – Annette. Josh and Dana had arranged to deliver boxes to Lt. Commander LaForge and Lieutenant Barclay in Engineering, and T'vek had drawn Guinan from our list of invitees, though we'd be handling that particular delivery together, after class.

I entered the conference room where our tutorial typically met, to find that Data had also arrived early, as I'd requested. "Good morning," I sing-songed, placing the package before him. "What's the story, morning glory?"

He was seated at his customary place at the center of the conference table, and looked up at me with an expression that was the android-equivalent of perplexed, before singing back to me, "What's the tale, nightingale?" His singing voice was a warm tenor, and surprisingly listenable. I wouldn't have minded if he'd continued, but instead he reverted to his regular speaking voice, "Is the musical 'Bye-Bye Birdie' somehow significant to your request to meet before class?"

"Nope, I'm just in a really good mood."

"Ah," he said. He examined the wrapped box with as much detail as possible without picking it up. "Is today a holiday of which I am unaware?"

"Nope again. That gift is step one of our class presentation, and I won the privilege of getting to see you open it." I paused before adding. "I promise it's not harmful, illegal, or illicit – more's the pity. Just a bit of fun."

"This would be the 'pizzazz' you mentioned."

"The merest hint of it. Please open it before everyone else gets here. I lobbied hard to be able to give it to you privately."

Again he offered me his perplexed look. "Why?"

I rolled my eyes. "Honestly, Data, analyzing everything spoils the fun in it. It doesn't tick, it won't explode, and there's no confetti involved, so please just open it."

"Very well." He slid the gold ribbon off the box and began a slow and meticulous unwrapping job.

I chuckled softly.

"Have I done something humorous?"

"No," I said. "I just had a feeling you weren't the ripping type."

"If one is careful, the paper may be re-used," he pointed out.

"True enough. I probably won't be around for Christmas, but my birthday's in January, just so you know." I considered telling him that I liked jewelry, but decided that doing so would be crossing a line.

He set the folded paper aside, and opened the box itself, drawing out the mask we'd chosen for him, an owl with copper wire feathers and cogs for eyes. "It is… a mask," he observed.

"There's more."

He reached back into the box, and found the creamy paper envelope that had been under the mask, opened it, and read aloud from the enclosed card, "You are cordially invited to the grand opening of Crumpe and Lillivick's Quantum Carnival, being a Presentation of Amusement Rides and Period Entertainments. Holodeck Three. Ten o'clock A.M, _Enterprise_ Time. Friday the 25th of November, 2366. Victorian or Steampunk attire is encouraged but not obligatory." He examined both sides of the card, but didn't read the stardate conversion we'd included for the time and date. "You have expanded my assignment to a three-dimensional rendering on the holodeck?" he asked.

"That's why we needed the extra time. It's also why we're all now bff's with The Man Who Made Godot Look Punctual."

"I do not understand."

"Lieutenant Barclay."

"Ah." He thought it over for about a millisecond. "A remarkably apt description. However, I was referring to the term 'bff'."

I blushed. "Sorry. Slang. 'Best friends forever,' only, you know, not really. Is it okay that we set it up for class-time without consulting you first?"

"I would prefer that you _do_ consult me next time," he said. "But in this case, it seems appropriate. I will see you at the holodeck on Friday morning."

"Super," I said. "I really hope you like what we came up with."

He didn't have a chance to answer, because the rest of the class came in, and I went to take my seat between T'vek and Dana.

**(=A=)**

After class, Dana reminded me that we had a study date planned for that evening, and then she and Josh went off to have lunch. T'vek and I headed for Ten-Forward, for once not needing an adult escort. "How did Data react to the invitation?" he asked me as we sauntered down the corridor toward the main turbo-lift bank, hand in hand.

"I was chastised for not clearing the schedule change with him, but it was perfunctory, at best. Also? I was right about him not ripping the paper."

He grinned at that. "Care to claim your prize?"

"There's a prize?"

"Mmhmm."

I would never understand how he managed to make two syllables into something completely wicked. "Mom's on night shift again tonight," I said. "And Dana's parents make her come home by nine on school nights."

"They're really over-protective."

"She had an older sister who was kidnapped when they lived on Javartis. I think they just want her to be safe."

"Really? I had no idea."

I shrugged. "We're raised with this notion that bad stuff doesn't happen anymore, that no one is poor or oppressed, and that we've eradicated crime. The reality is that the universe is much grittier than we're taught. You can give everyone a baseline of common necessities, but you can't make people not want more."

"Look at you, the budding activist."

"I do more than just play pretty songs, you know."

"I have never doubted this," T'vek said.

We took the lift down to deck ten, and then walked to the forward section of the ship, and into the lounge. It was the alpha-shift lunch hour, so things were pretty busy, but Guinan had been expecting us. "Zoe," she greeted as we approached the bar, "and T'vek. Welcome. I've got a table reserved for the three of us."

"Are you sure you can spare the time?" I asked. Suddenly, I was all too aware of how often adults seemed to accommodate us.

"Of course." She led us to a table in a quieter – relatively – part of the room. "Join me," she said, sitting down. I noticed that she chose a seat that let her face the room, while T'vek and I had chairs that gave us a good angle to the large viewport.

"We wanted to give you this," T'vek said, placing his wrapped box in front of her.

"It's not every day I get presents from two young people such as yourselves," she said, smiling faintly. Her fingers were nimble, sliding the ribbon away, and then ripping open the package. She seemed to notice us watching her, though, because she looked up. "Don't you just love the satisfying sound of wrapping paper being torn?"

I grinned. "Absolutely," I said.

T'vek's answer was to quirk his eyebrow in my direction.

I grinned at him, then turned my attention back to Guinan, who was lifting her invitation out of the box first, reading it, and then reaching in for the other item. While we'd created a mask for Data, each person had received something we thought suited their personality. Obviously, the bartender was getting a hat. Well, sort of. It was a fascinator designed to look like a top hat, made in deep green with a black lace veil attached. "This is lovely," she said "But who are Crumpe and Lillivick?"

"We are," T'vek said. "Well, sort of."

"Data assigned us a project, but we were having so much fun with it, we decided to expand the presentation from code and animated renderings to a holodeck experience. We didn't want to send the invitation with five names on it, so we came up with Crumpe and Lillivick because they sounded cool."

"Crumpe represents Wesley, Josh, and me," T'vek elaborated, his dark eyes sparkling as he warmed to the topic. "And Lillivick is Zoe and Dana."

"Dana, Josh, and I did most of the design on the invitations," I added. "I hope you'll come."

"If this is your way of getting me to remove the requirement that you have an adult escort, it won't work," she said. "Though I admire your solution of making me your escort. In any case, that rule never truly applied to any of you, not that it harms anything for you to believe that it did." She winked at each of us, and then continued on, asking, "Who chose to give me headgear?"

"That was my idea," T'vek admitted. "And we appreciate your willingness to play along."

"We really just thought our presentation might amuse you." I said.

"Interesting that you're using a steampunk motif," came her answer.

"Interesting how?" I asked.

"It's a fantastic version of real history, but with better opportunities for women and those with certain scientific interests."

" _She_ _wanted_ to include vampires and demons." This had been a point of contention between my friends and me since we'd begun planning our presentation as a holodeck sim.

"Only a few. And I left out Jack the Ripper." My protest was perfunctory. Mostly.

"Jack the Ripper," Guinan mused. "You know, there are some great stories suggesting Sherlock Holmes was the man who solved those murders."

"But Holmes was fictional," T'vek said.

"Was he?" but she was obviously teasing us. "It's still a thought provoking idea. But even without a serial killer, I think your 'Quantum Carnival' sounds interesting. I will attend."

"Thanks, Guinan."

"You're very welcome. Now, what do you want for lunch?"

**(=A=)**

"How did you know T'vek liked you as more than a friend?" Dana asked me later that day, during our "study date." I had just finished proofing an essay for her, just as she had been proofing mine.

"I'm not sure, exactly," I answered honestly. "He came to me to ask about setting up Serenity Five, and we just kind of clicked. Though, taking me to the aquatics lab for a make-out session was kind of a clue."

"Is it true Commander Data caught you two sleeping together in the corridor of the runabout."

I had the decency to blush. "Um. Kind of. In the sense that we were _just_ sleeping."

She set aside the padd she'd been working on. "He didn't tell your parents?"

I shook my head. "Data is surprisingly awesome, once you get to know him."

"Only because you're his favorite."

"I'm so totally _not_ his favorite. I'm pretty sure he can't even _have_ favorites. And if he could, it'd be someone who doesn't have to struggle with every single assignment." I noticed her starting to speak, probably to ask if I needed math help, so I cut her off with a question of my own. "Why the questions about me and Tev, anyway? Did something happen between you and Josh?"

It was Dana's turn to blush. "He kissed me."

"Really? When? Where? I want details."

"Well," she said, "remember when I went to dinner at his place the other night? His parents decided to go for a walk in the arboretum – "

"Translation," I interrupted, "they were giving the two of you some alone time."

She picked up her padd again, pretending to study it, "Possibly. Anyway, we were watching a vid – that series about the café on the frontier of Mars – and there was a scene where the main characters were kissing and Josh said it wasn't very realistic and we could do it better."

"And then he kissed you?"

"And then he kissed me."

"And?"

"And I kissed him back, and it was nice…"

"But?"

"But now when I see him I'm all squidgy and awkward."

"Like butterflies in your belly?"

"Uh-huh."

"Dana, my dear, you are in love."

"I know that, Zoe, but what do I _do_?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Boys are confusing sometimes. Maybe just ask him if he'll ride the Ferris wheel with you on Friday."

"What _is_ it with you and Ferris wheels?"

Instead of answering my best friend's question, I set down my own padd, and got up. "I'm getting a drink. Do you want anything?"

"That cranberry orange juice you had the other day was good."

I ordered two glasses from the replicator, then returned to the couch, handing one glass to Dana. It's like this," I began as I sat cross-legged on the seat, facing her. "Ferris wheels are only the most romantic ride in existence. They're slow, so you have time to chat or make out or whatever. They're up high, so you get a great view. They're not noisy, so you can hear yourselves talk. They only seat two per gondola, which encourages couple-hood. And if that isn't enough, you can always rock the car a little and pretend you're afraid of falling, as an excuse to hold onto the guy you're with."

"Pretend to be afraid of falling…?"

I shrugged. "It's not the most empowering move, but I'm told it works."

Dana took a moment to absorb my mini-lecture. Then she asked, "Are Josh and I dating now?"

I laughed softly, affectionately. "I think," I said, "you'll have to ask Josh. You know…we should all do dinner – the five of us and Annette – for Annette's birthday. Like, a grown-up dinner thing."

"That would be so much fun!"

"Yeah," I said. "It really would."

"Okay," Dana said, "we should get back to work now. I have to be home by nine, and you have T'vek coming over."

"I never said that!" I protested.

"You didn't have to," Dana said, grinning at me. And that was why we were best friends; there was a lot we didn't have to say.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43895.57**

**(Wednesday, 23 November 2366, 21:14 hours, ship's time)**

Typical of T'vek, before we did anything social, he asked me if I'd look over _his_ essay as well. I did, of course, but then I asked. "Okay, what are we doing tonight? Vids? Games? Sneaking into astrometrics and using the planetarium sphere for battle sims?"

"Tempting," he said. "All very tempting. But I thought we might just take a walk…you aren't required to stay in are you?" He turned off his padd, set it on the coffee table, and moved toward the door.

"Nope," I said "Arboretum? Aquatics lab?" I put on a fake English accent, "Wot's yer pleasure, sir?"

He favored me with his most mysterious smile. "You'll see."

"Do I need to change?"

He gave me an appraising look, taking in the red turtleneck, jeans, and boots I was wearing, as if he hadn't noticed that I'd been wearing the same outfit all day. Well, maybe he hadn't. "You look perfect," he said. "C'mere."

Leaving my padd on the couch, I crossed the room to him. "You're being Mysterious Guy tonight," I observed. "It's kind of hot."

He didn't say anything, just leaned in for a kiss, which lasted until we were both breathless.

"This isn't a walk," I murmured.

"Nope," he agreed.

"We should go…" I started to say, but then I remembered that underneath his shaggy hair there were delicately pointed ears, and I had to touch them. "Although, here's nice, too."

"Zoe…"

I found his hand with mine, and tugged. "Come with me." I didn't lead him back to the couch. Instead, I took him to my room. I had never been the kind of girl who had to be urged to clean her room, but for a change I didn't have any discarded clothing lying around.

I sat on my bed, and drew T'vek down to sit with me. Dropping his hand, I reached up to brush his hair. His eyes were huge, and I was pretty certain mine were as wide as saucers, as I reached to trace the points of his ears with one trembling finger. "You said once, that you could sense surface thoughts, if we were touching…can you tell what I'm thinking now?"

He closed his eyes, concentrating. "Music," he said. "When I touch you, it's all music."

I pulled away. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Never. I just wish it was all for me."

I wanted to ask him what he meant, or who he thought the music in my head was really for, but a part of me was afraid of what he'd say, so I took the cowardly route. "Stevek," I said, using his whole name, before I kissed him. "T'vek," and I kissed him again. "Tev…"

His hands twined into my hair, and suddenly we weren't just sitting any more, but sprawled across my bed, and for a long time, there was no talking at all, just lips and tongues and hands and more than a little heavy breathing. His hand tugged at the hem of my shirt, and he whispered something that might have been asking for permission.

My response was to wiggle into a more comfortable position.

T'vek's hand was hot against my skin, as he slipped it under my shirt, cupping my breast over my bra. "Okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," I said, my voice catching in my throat. "You?"

"Perfect," he said, but I didn't know if he meant himself or me, or just…this. He was mostly on top of me, and as he leaned down to kiss me again, I heard the twin thuds of his shoes falling to the floor, and I managed to work my own boots off as well, even as he was insinuating his hand beneath the fabric of my bra, but then he moved, or I moved and the collar of my turtleneck started to choke me. "Zoe! Are you alright?" He moved away from me, pulling me upright as he did so.

"For future reference," I managed after a moment of gasping. "Turtlenecks are not recommended as make-out session attire."

His grin was warm and gentle. "I'll try to remember that." After a beat he added. "I thought I was pushing you too far."

I shook my head. "It felt nice."

"Just nice?" he teased.

I blushed, but I met his eyes. When I answered him, my voice sounded a little bit husky. "Really nice. Kind of amazing, actually. What time is it?"

He glanced at the digital display on my nightstand. "Not quite ten. We have time."

"If I took my shirt off, would that be slutty or weird?"

"Definitely not weird," he said. His dark eyes were shining. "And not slutty, either, unless you're stripping down for Wes and Josh as well."

"Well," I teased. "Not for Wes _and_ Josh."

"Zoe…"

"Sorry." I hesitated, then said, "If I'm taking something off, you should, too."

"That's fair," he said, stripping off the tunic he was wearing. Like most Betazoids, he had almost no body hair. Like most Vulcans his compact frame belied his strength. Translation: the boy had muscles. He also had tawny skin that was radiating heat. "Ohhh." I said softly.

He smirked at me. "You like what you see?"

"You know I do," I said. I pulled my shirt off, tossing it aside, and then faced him wearing only my bra and jeans, and hoped I didn't look as shy and nervous as I felt.

"Me, too," he said, before I could ask.

I bent and kissed him, and he pulled me back onto my bed.

We didn't undress any further, except for his surprisingly deft removal of my bra. Tev's touches and kisses were gentle and exploratory, sending chills all through me, and I was caught between wanting to just enjoy this new facet of our relationship, and wondering if I was supposed to reciprocate.

We never heard either of our padds remind us that T'vek had fifteen minutes to get home. We never heard the door chime sound. We didn't even realize that my mother had come into our quarters and was standing in my room until suddenly, too close for comfort, came the words no teenager ever wants to hear:

"Zoe. Lauren. Harris. What do you think you're doing?"

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43895.89**

**(Thursday, 24 November 2366, 00:02 hours, ship's time)**

In my deepest fantasies, when my mother asked that question I would favor her with my sauciest grin, and demand to know if she was asking a trick question. When she walked in on T'vek and me – half naked and in my bed – in reality, my response was much less polished. I took the pillow my boyfriend thrust at me, and used it to cover my chest. "Mom! You're early."

To her credit, my mother did _not_ yell. Instead she looked at T'vek and me, and then said, "Living room. Five minutes. Get dressed." She turned on her heel and walked out.

I didn't move until I heard my bedroom door slide shut, and then I sat up. "Where exactly did you throw my bra?" I asked.

"Here," T'vek said, handing it to me. He got up and began collecting his clothes, pulling his tunic over his head, and handing me my turtleneck.

"I'm sorry," I said, as I, too, got dressed. "I'm really sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be. We messed up, but I don't regret anything. Do you?'

I smiled. "No."

He kissed me. "Zoe, the timing of this completely sucks, but…I think I kinda love you."

My heart started racing in my chest, but I didn't have a chance to answer him because my mother called, "Zoe, T'vek, time's up."

T'vek's father, Kenash, was waiting with my mother when we left the room.

"Hi, Dad," my boyfriend said, too brightly.

"Stevek." Apparently, when you're a Vulcan/Betazoid hybrid, using your whole given name is as dire as when a middle name comes into play for a human.

"Is this the part where you start yelling at us for being stupid and breaking curfew?" I asked. Putting my mother on the defensive was an old tactic, but sometimes it actually worked.

"No," my mother said.

"No?" T'vek and I asked together.

"This is the part where we point out that you're damned lucky you live on a starship, where I could come down here and check to make sure that you were okay when you failed to answer the door chime. This is the part where we remind you that you're both far too young to be having relationships this serious. This is the part where I bring up the fact that you, darling daughter, are only fifteen, and therefore below the legal age of consent." Her voice got higher and more strident with each sentence.

"Calm down, Emily," Mr. Mairaj suggested smoothly. "I know you're upset. T'rella and I are not pleased about this either, but yelling at our children won't solve the problem or correct their error."

My mother took a couple of cleansing breaths. "You're right, Kenash."

"So, what happens now?" T'vek asked. "Are you forbidding us to see each other?"

"Would it work if we did?" his father countered.

"Probably not," T'vek admitted.

I reached for my boyfriend's hand and squeezed it, and he squeezed mine back. "We messed up," I said, using his words from just a few minutes before. "And we're both really sorry, but no one got hurt, and we weren't running loose on the ship."

"That may be the case," Kenash agreed. "But T'vek's mother had to interrupt Emily's work in order to be certain that the pair of you were here and safe, and that cannot happen again." He yawned. "However, this is not the time to discuss it. T'vek, I'll wait for you in the corridor. Say your goodbyes quickly. "

"Yes, Dad." T'vek said even as I was saying "Goodnight, Mr. Mairaj."

I glanced at my mother for permission, and then the two of us walked to the door, where I kissed him on the cheek, and said, "G'night Tev. See you in class."

He leaned his forehead against mine for a moment, then pulled away. "Seeya, Zoe. Goodnight, Commander Harris." And then he was gone.

I stared at the closed doors for a long moment, and then turned back to my mother. "I assume the yelling actually starts now?"

But instead of screaming at me, as I expected her to do, my mother came and wrapped me in her arms. "I'm incredibly angry and disappointed with you," she said softly. "But I will never stop loving you, and Kenash is right. Yelling won't resolve this."

"I love you too, Mom," I said, hugging her back.

"Good," she said, "now go change, and go to bed. I'm not pulling you out of classes tomorrow if you're too tired."

"Yes, mom," I said, and beat a hasty retreat to my bedroom.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43896.87**

**(Thursday, 24 November 2366, 08:37 hours, ship's time)**

Morning came all too quickly. I _was_ over-tired, and my mother was milking her knowledge of that for all that it was worth, singing loudly and off-key (on purpose – Mom's voice was usually quite lovely), stirring her coffee by banging the spoon against the inside of her mug, and things of that ilk. I wanted to grumble at her, but I knew sweetness and light was a better defense at the moment.

"You look really radiant this morning, Mom," I told her.

"Thank you," she said, "but that doesn't get you out of any consequences. Consider yourself grounded for the next two weeks."

"Grounded?" I goggled at her in disbelief. "How can you ground me? Ground me from what? It's not like there's any place to go."

"Isn't there?" she asked, too pleasantly. "For the next two weeks, you'll go to class, and music lessons, and otherwise be back here."

"Am I allowed to have friends come over for study sessions?"

She seemed to consider the idea before answering, "Annette and Dana are welcome any time. No boys without express permission and adult supervision."

That actually wasn't so bad. "But only for two weeks, right?"

"The 'no boys' part is indefinite."

"Mom!"

"Zoe, there may not be 'any place to go,' but despite that you've broken my trust in you. Earn it back, and I'll reconsider."

"What about Data's quartet? We're supposed to rehearse tonight."

"Excuse me?"

"You said class and music lessons, but Data's quartet isn't really either."

"You may attend providing he or one of the other members of the group escorts you to and from."

"Seriously?" I asked her. "He'll think I'm a total _child_." I paused, using the time to obtain a glass of cranberry-orange juice and a breakfast burrito from the replicator. "You're not going to tell him why, are you?" I asked, after I'd returned to the table.

My mother relented, a little. "I won't provide details, no, but I need to know where you are, and ensure that you are honoring your restriction, which leads me to this." She slid a small metal object across the table, toward me. "Put it on."

I stared at it, "This is a com-badge."

"Yes."

"Since when do civilians wear com-badges?"

"Since their mothers need to be able to track their whereabouts. Besides, if you'd had one last night, you would not have missed our attempts to contact you."

I muttered something about kid-leashes and hand-cuffs.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"I didn't think so." But again she relented, adding the information, "It's not just you. All civilians are being added to the com-network. You'll have limited access, of course, so don't think you and your friends can use them for chit-chat."

"Whatever."

"You will wear it."

I sighed, and attached it to the shirt I was wearing, a black long-sleeved t-shirt with the slogan, "We're all mad here," written in silver text. It was actually a reference to _Alice in Wonderland_ , but I liked it because it left people just a bit on edge. "Fine. See."

"You will contact me as soon as you get back to quarters after every class or lesson."

"Or quartet rehearsal?"

"Yes."

"You'll still come to our presentation tomorrow?"

Her formidable mood dropped away, and she softened into the mother I was more accustomed to having around. "Of course. I'm looking forward to seeing the project that required a field trip and an entire suitcase full of new outfits."

"Honestly, mom. You were there. You know the field trip was all about enhancing our education."

"And the clothes?"

"My beloved father felt guilty for neglecting his only daughter. A little retail therapy did wonders to assuage that guilt."

"A 'little retail therapy' would have been just the bags you came back with the night you snuck out to be with him."

It was my turn to give a little. "I think part of it was from Gia. She's trying to be my friend or something." I got up, and returned my tableware to the replicator. "Gotta book. Things to learn, music to play, all of that." I dropped a kiss on the top of her head as I left. "Love you."

**(=A=)**

For the first time in weeks, T'vek wasn't waiting for me outside my quarters, but Dana was. "Hey, you," she greeted, grinning at me. "I come bearing messages."

"Messages? As in plural?" I started walking toward the 'lift as we talked.

She laughed. "Yes, but they're both from one person. T'vek's got some kind of thing in sickbay today, and didn't want you to worry when he wasn't here."

"Why didn't he tell me himself?"

"That's the second message. His father blocked communications on his padd, and – as you know – we're not allowed to use our newly-assigned com-badges for anything that isn't an emergency."

I glanced at my friend, checking to see that she, too, was sporting new jewelry. I was oddly reassured that she was. "I was half-convinced that only T'vek and I were getting these. You know, electronic leashes."

She shook her head. "Dad said they'd actually been considering it for a while." Her father, I remembered, was in security.

"Is there something going on that we should know about?"

"Nothing I've heard, but Dad doesn't really let me know what's going on."

"No, I guess he wouldn't." Dana's father was the living example of _over-protective_. "I don't suppose you and Annette would like to come have lunch at my place today, so that I don't have to eat all alone?"

"Oh, Zoe, I'd love to…" she began, but hesitated.

I gave my friend a hard look, realizing for the first time that her blonde hair was not pulled back into its typical pony-tail, and that she was wearing an actual dress. I tried hard not to smile too broadly. "But…" I was going to make her say it.

"But I have plans with Josh."

I grinned. "That's wonderful. Well, for you, not so much for me. Although, I should probably use the time to practice. I have quartet rehearsal tonight, and I don't want to disappoint Da – the group – because it's my only non-class activity for the next two weeks."

"What exactly happened between you and T'vek last night? Josh said you were running battle sims in astrometrics or something."

"I'm not sure where he got that idea…" At least it meant T'vek hadn't given him any details. "T'vek didn't tell you anything?"

"Only that you'd both messed up, and he had an appointment."

"Yeah, we messed up by getting caught messing around. Together. On my bed." We'd ridden the turbo-lift to the school deck by now, and I didn't want everyone else hearing. "We might have been a little bit topless."

"Oh my god, Zoe, you didn't…!"

"Oh, god, no. I mean…there was kissing and stuff, but…no. Not everything."

"But you will."

I blushed thinking about it. "I don't know. Maybe? My mother made a few valid points between ranting about us being stupid."

Dana seemed to think that over. "I'm not sure stupid is the right word," she said after a beat or two. "But Zoe, I'm the same age you are, and I know I'm not ready to go that far with Josh…"

I shrugged. "People are ready for things when they're ready for them. I'm pretty sure it was only a couple years ago that I was still insisting that boys are gross."

Dana smiled at that. "So, you're just grounded?"

"Like it matters much. Oh, and no boys in quarters without adult supervision. And I have to have an escort to and from rehearsals."

"If you ever want to trade parents…" she began, but I knew she didn't really mean it.

"Your father isn't that bad," I assured her. "I mean, he's stricter with you than the rest of our parents are, but he's in security. He sees stuff."

"Yeah, but I'd never have gotten a mere grounding," she countered. "If I was caught topless with a boy, my father would have replicated a chastity belt and used self-sealing stem bolts to keep it on me 'til I turned thirty."

"When you put it that way…" I let the sentence trail off, because we'd arrived at our classroom for History of the Federation. "Though, with the right accessories a chastity belt could be a new fashion trend. Anyway, we have to go learn everything we never wanted to know about the Andorian-Tellarite wars, and save the important stuff for later."

As I'd hoped, Dana responded to that with easy laughter.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43899.66**

**(Friday, 25 November 2366, 09:01 hours, ship's time)**

The morning of our presentation, I transmitted the file with our written report to Data's terminal about an hour before we were scheduled to meet at the holodeck. I'd been tasked with the final proofreading and sending of the thing, and I wanted to make sure it was there on time.

As it turned out, Data was unable to make it to our presentation, and Geordi and the captain were also unable to attend. There was an emergency on Beta Agni II, and we were the closest ship to a supplier of the chemical needed to fix the problem. Dr. Crusher was there, but on a time crunch like her son. She was busy with the medical end of the same emergency.

At least, that's what I gleaned from Wes's excited chatter, as he came rushing down the corridor. "We have to get this done so I can get back to the bridge," was his final pronouncement.

Our presentation, then, was made to our parents, Guinan, and Lt. Barclay. We paired off, well, divided up. – T'vek ended up riding the Ferris wheel with my mother (and what I wouldn't have given to hear _that_ conversation), Dana and Barclay went on the Wave-Warrior, a pendulum ride based on a pirate ship, with her father and Josh's mother tagging along, while Josh escorted Guinan and Wesley's mother onto the Stellar Scrambler.

That left Wes and T'vek's father to ride the Galactic Gravitron, while I was paired with my boyfriend's mother.

Other than that she was pure Vulcan, all I knew about T'rella Mairaj was that she was some kind of scientist and played the flute. She'd invited my mother and me to dine with them, but we hadn't yet managed to schedule anything. I suspected that, given recent events, that dinner was going to be scheduled pretty quickly. "Commander Mairaj," I invited, "would you join me on the Axial Tilt?"

"That would be agreeable."

I led the way onto the ride, choosing a car at random, and explaining, "We designed each ride for maximum enjoyment based on average humanoid responses to spinning, twisting, and the possibility of falling from the ride, though the reality is that it's almost impossible to fall out." We'd also added holographic riders to fill any cars or gondolas that didn't have real people, because our research showed us that part of the fun in an amusement park ride was the collective mood of the crowd.

"You have done an exemplary job at recreating the carnival atmosphere," she observed, seating herself. "I see a lot of my son's handiwork in the architectural choices."

"Tev told me he'd like to do this for a living," I said. "Architecture, not designing theme parks."

"I am aware of that desire. I encourage it. I am also aware of your desire to make music your profession. Do you believe that to be a wise choice?"

The ride lurched into motion, the twisting circles beginning at a fairly gentle speed, but gradually accelerating. "I grew up watching my father's career," I answered. "Touring with him. I like theatre, too, but right now music is what's driving me."

"Then you are not committed to a career path?"

"I'm committed to becoming the best musician I can," I said, trying to be polite. "I'm not even sixteen yet. My mother thinks I should 'explore more options' before making any irrevocable decisions."

"And yet you and Stevek nearly made an irrevocable decision two nights ago." It wasn't a question, and her tone was neutral, so I wasn't sure if she was angry or concerned or… anything.

"We let things go a little too far," I allowed, "but no one got hurt. It's not like we jumped ship to run off and elope, or anything."

She must have sensed my defensiveness. "Zoe, please understand. I am not angry with Stevek or with you. I am concerned for my son's well-being, and for yours."

"Mine?"

"Stevek believes he is in love with you."

The ride accelerated further, the twists and turns of the car on the tilted platform matching those of my emotions. "I know," I said. "I think I'm in love with him, too."

"But you are not certain."

"I know I love him," I said. "I'm not sure where just loving someone ends and being _in love_ with them begins. He's creative and supportive and - forgive me – kind of hot – and being with him is just… easy. But…"

"But…?" Her nudging was surprisingly gentle, considering the Vulcan reputation for being completely logical all the time.

I hesitated, not sure what, or how much, to say.

"Zoe, Stevek has outwardly embraced his Betazoid traits far more than his Vulcan ones. His father and I decided together that he would choose his own path in that regard. He displays emotion, as you know, but inside he is still half Vulcan."

The spinning got even faster as we tilted and whirled among the other cars on the ride. "Are you telling me to back off?"

"No," T'rella said. "I am not. I believe you and Stevek are well-matched." I must've reacted in some way because she added, "Not as a permanent couple, but for the first tastes of love and intimacy, you are good partners for one another. However, I also believe that it is imperative the pair of you proceed with caution. As you pointed out, you _are_ only fifteen. My son is not that much older."

"My mother said basically the same thing," I shared, even as I locked my grip on the lap bar of our car. "Only her phrasing was that we shouldn't be in a rush to grow up." I paused, adjusted my grip, and continued. "If you're worried about us having sex, I know I'm not ready to go there yet." I'm not sure what compelled me to continue, but I added, "I promise I won't hurt him."

T'rella turned her head to meet my gaze. "No," she said. "I do not believe you will. I only hope that he does not hurt you." There was a long stretch of silence, and I felt the ride reverse direction, part of the deceleration routine. "I will contact your mother later today about a mutually agreeable time and date for dinner."

I let out a breath I hadn't even realized I was holding. "Thank you, Commander," I said.

"T'rella," she corrected, "is my given name. I would be honored if you would use it."

"Thank you, T'rella," I amended as the ride came to a stop. The locks on the lap bar disengaged, and I pushed it away. "And thanks for riding with me. I hope you enjoyed it."

She didn't smile at me, not quite, but there was a hint of a twinkle in her dark eyes when she replied, "I found the experience to be most educational. Thank you, Zoe."

We left the platform and joined my classmates and the rest of our guests. T'vek caught my eye and raised a questioning brow, but I just shook my head and mouthed the word 'later' at him. Then, since none of my friends were moving things along I spoke up, "We know you all have things to get back to, so we'd like everyone to come and ride the Cosmic Comet together."

As much as I'd lobbied for the inclusion of the Ferris wheel, the Cosmic Comet was the real _piece de resistance_ of our carnival. Designed to look like it was made of copper tubing and wooden rails, it was actually a mag-coaster, translated into a holographic setting. It had three big peaks, and a final descent that corkscrewed to a finish. We'd debated adding a loop, but decided it would be overkill.

There were thirteen of us, which made seating a bit of a challenge, but T'vek and I, as the resident thrill seekers, commandeered the front seat of the front car, with his parents directly behind us, and Guinan my mother sharing the back seat. The second car had Josh and his mother in the front, Dana and her father in the back, and Wes and his mother in the middle.

"Reg," the doctor invited, "come sit with Wes and me."

The nervous lieutenant demurred. "I'm not really a fan of – ah – roller coasters," he said. "Vertigo. I get vertigo."

"You're not riding?" Josh confirmed.

"But you helped us with all the programming," Dana added.

"I'd really prefer to just…watch," he insisted.

"Your loss," Wes said, and even though I couldn't see him, I just _knew_ he was shrugging when he said it.

"Alright then," I said, "Lt. Barclay, start the ride, at least?"

"That I can do," he agreed, and did so.

The Cosmic Comet run was timed to last for two minutes and fourteen seconds, but everyone – including T'rella – asked for a second run, so it was five minutes later that we actually exited the ride.

"That was awesome!" Josh said.

"I had a great time," his mother said, hugging him as long as he allowed it – about fifteen seconds.

"I enjoyed this experience as well," T'rella told us. "You have all done a remarkable job. I am certain Commander Data will be impressed with your work."

"I hope so," I said, at about the same time Wes did.

"Do you think we could keep the program as part of the entertainment library?" T'vek asked. "So we can come back to it, and others can use it?"

"I do not see why not," his mother answered. "Doctor?"

Beverly Crusher smiled, "I'm pretty sure once Data sees it, he'll approve its inclusion," she said. "Thank you all for a marvelous morning. I'm sorry Data, Geordi, and Captain Picard couldn't make it."

The conversation went on in a similar vein for a few more minutes, as we students answered some questions about the design and the inspiration for the project, and explained why we'd chosen the rides that we had.

Finally, though, Wes said, "I'm due on the bridge. Mom, do you wanna walk with me?"

"I'd love to," she said, and they disappeared.

T'vek and his parents also left, as did everyone else. My mother and I remained to shut everything down.

"You're awfully quiet, Zoe," she observed.

"I had an interesting chat with T'rella, is all," I said.

"I thought as much."

"Did you plan it? Separating T'vek and me so you could each have conversations?"

She favored me with her best wry grin. "If only I was that good at plotting. Actually, T'vek asked me to ride with him. He was lobbying to end your grounding."

"He wasn't!"

"He was."

"Did it work?" I asked.

"I told him you were free of restriction after tomorrow morning." She hesitated a moment, then said, in a softer tone. "I was your age once, too, Zoe. I might have over-reacted a little."

"A little?"

"I could have sent you to the Sisters of Serenity on PaxWorld," she pointed out.

"You would never do that," I said. "We're not even Catholic."

"Fair point." She reached out to me, and I moved closer so she could hook her arm around my waist. I returned the embrace, and saved and closed our program. My mother continued, though, saying, "I'm a little hungry. Let's go have an early lunch in Ten-Forward."

"I'd like that," I said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lines Zoe and Data sing are from "The Telephone Hour," a song in the musical Bye Bye Birdie (book by Michael Stewart, lyrics by Lee Adams, music by Charles Strouse). The names Crumpe and Lillivick are from a Steampunk name generator, for no reason except that I think they sounded cool. I chose not to have Barclay present in any scenes (only referenced) because it would have made this chapter incredibly long, but there will probably be a one-shot. (Or not.) 
> 
> The rides that Zoe and her friends created are futuristic versions of classic carnival rides, designed to look like they'd belong in a steampunk setting. Instead of hydraulics and machinery, their versions are designed to use magnets, anti-grav units, and small force-fields or tractor-beams. Contemporary equivalents: Axial Tilt (Tilt-a-Whirl), Stellar Scrambler (The Scrambler), Cosmic Comet (Imagine your favorite roller coaster. I prefer the wooden coasters found on seaside boardwalks (Santa Cruz, CA has my favorite), but the new suspended coasters – where you hang from the track, and your feet dangle – are probably closer to what the kids created), Galactic Gravitron (Round-Up), Wave-Warrior (pirate-ship pendulum ride) and the classic Ferris wheel.
> 
> For those keeping track, while I did move the whole Jenna D'Sora relationship into season 3, in 'series time' this chapter takes place around the episode "Hollow Pursuits," and leads into "The Most Toys."


	14. Ferris Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'vek comforts Zoe after Data's shuttle explodes. But is he really dead? Sometimes life feels like a Ferris Wheel.

**Stardate 43902.64**

**(Saturday, 26 November 2366, 11:08 hours, ship's time)**

The gondola of the holographic Ferris wheel swayed slightly, despite the fact that the ride was currently paused. We'd left the part of the program that included other passengers turned off, because at the moment, our creation was my haven from reality. Earlier that morning, I'd been all set to meet Data for our usual Saturday music theory session, only to have my mother grab me in a fierce hug and then tell me gently that the mission he'd been on the day before, the one that had caused him to miss our presentation, had ended in a fiery explosion and his death. A holographic breeze wafted by me, and I shivered.

"You're cold, Zo'," my companion said to me. "We should exit the program and get you a sweater or some soup or something."

"I hate sweaters," I said. "And I don't think I could eat anything even if I wanted to." I wasn't looking at him but I knew his expression would be full of concern. "Put your arm around me and hold me close, and let me just be out of the world a little bit longer?" I asked.

He pulled me to his side, and I nestled against the heat of his body, always several degrees warmer than my own, resting my head on his shoulder. The gondola swayed even more as we resettled ourselves, but neither of us cared. "Better?" he asked.

"Way better," I said. "What would I do without you, Tev?"

T'vek nuzzled my hair for a long moment before he answered. "Well," he said, "you definitely wouldn't be necking on a vintage carnival ride." He kept his tone light, teasing.

"I was being serious," I said, but the ghost of a smile flirted with the corners of my mouth.

"Yeah," he said, a rough catch in his voice. "I know. 's why I'm not." What he didn't say, what he didn't _need_ to say, was that he, too, was mourning the loss of the man who led our math tutorial, who had given us the assignment that led to the Ferris wheel even being here – the man who had come into my life several months before as just another officer who worked with my mother, and then morphed from my tutor into my friend, and more recently, my musical partner. "It's okay if you need to cry some more," he added softly. "It's what I'm here for."

I changed my position slightly, so I could wrap both my arms around his middle. "Thank you," I said. "I'm okay for the moment. But that might change, so, you know, stay close."

"Hadn't planned to go anywhere," he said.

I took a deep breath, but didn't lift my head, just let the breath back out slowly. "Good. Don't. You and Data are pretty much the only reasons I haven't figured out a way to hijack a shuttle and run away." I wasn't really teasing, but I wasn't really serious either. "Anyway, I love you too much to make you an accomplice to that kind of crime."

"What? I'm only good for petty larceny and plotting nefarious deeds?" He made it a joke, but I could hear the smile in his voice that was his reaction to my use of the l-word.

"Well," I said, "maybe not _only_ that." I was quiet for a long time after that, but then there was a ping from my comm-badge, something I'd only had for about three days, and was still not comfortable with.

_Wesley Crusher to Zoe Harris, please respond._

"Wonder what the boy wonder wants," T'vek murmured.

I shrugged and tapped the badge. "Go for Zoe," I said, sitting upright once more.

_Sorry to bother you this way,_ our classmate's voice came from the tiny speaker, _but Geordi and I are in Data's quarters, and we were wondering… Geordi thinks maybe you should join us._

"Think I should?" I asked my boyfriend.

"Why not?" he said. "The worst thing that happens is that you burst into tears, and I'm pretty sure Wes and Commander LaForge would understand."

"Do you know him?" I asked. "Commander LaForge? I met him a couple of times when I was a kid, and had lunch with him and Wes and Data my first day in our m-math class." Tears were threatening again. "He seemed nice. Said to use his first name."

"About the same," T'vek told me. "Ran into him a couple of times hanging with Wes, but no real direct interaction. If he's the one who thinks there's something there you need to see, I'd say you should go."

"You wanna come?"

He shook his head. "I should get home. Make sure my mother has no need of me. I'll see you later?"

"Count on it," I said.

_Zoe? You there?_ Wes's voice reminded me I hadn't actually answered.

"Sorry," I said after tapping the badge again. "I'll be there in a few minutes. T'vek and I are finishing something in the holodeck."

_Crusher out._

"Computer, return ride to start position," T'vek ordered, and the wheel began to slowly revolve, carrying us downward so we could exit the ride. In truth, we could have just ended the program, but we weren't entirely certain if we'd be on the ground or in mid-air, so it was easier to exit properly.

"End program," I said, as soon as we were off the ride. "Thanks," I said to T'vek. We shared a brief, chaste kiss, and left the holodeck going in opposite directions.

**(=A=)**

When I got to Data's quarters the door was standing open, and I could hear Geordi and Wes inside, but couldn't discern what they were actually saying. Feeling awkward, I knocked on the door frame. "Um…hello?" I called.

"Zoe," Geordi came to meet me at the door. "We didn't pull you away from anything, did we?"

I shook my head. "My usual Saturday plans are sort of…permanently cancelled. It's when we met for music theory." I followed him back into the room, looking around at all of Data's things in a way I hadn't been able to the last time I was in his quarters. "Why did you want me here?" I asked, biting back tears. "I mean, why me, why not Josh or Tev or Dana – they've known him longer."

"You mean, you don't know, Zoe?" Wes came around the corner from the other part of the room, his voice gentler than I was accustomed to. "You're on Data's list."

"List?" I asked. "What list? A ranking of the most annoying, disrespectful people on the ship? A catalog of people with the coolest collection of t-shirts? The roster of mindless jerks who will be first against the wall when the revolution comes?"

Wes looked at me as if I were crazy, but I could have sworn that Geordi let out a soft chuckle. Still, my classmate patiently explained, "It's typical for Starfleet officers to have a list of people they're close to. Family, and stuff. The people they record personal messages for. Your mom never told you about this?"

I shrugged. "She may have. I kind of tune out anything that involves my parents being, y'know, dead. Anyway, why would I be on Data's list? I mean, yeah, we've been spending a lot of time together…but I didn't think…" I went to the couch and sat on it. "You were totally serious about me being the favorite, weren't you?"

He sat next to me. "He talks about you on the bridge, Zoe." His voice was quiet, serious.

"Is that true?" I asked Geordi, who was staying mostly out of the conversation.

The chief engineer dropped into Data's desk chair. "Yeah," he said. "You come up a lot. When Data finds someone he connects with, especially if it's someone who shares one of his personal interests, he tends to keep them pretty close."

"His list must be huge," I observed.

"Actually, it's not."

"I don't understand," I said, and save for my use of a contraction, I could have been echoing the man we were talking about.

"Most people, even people he works with every day, tend to treat Data more like a machine than a man. Maybe it's subconscious – I don't know – but it's pretty rare that anyone treats him like any other person. Really rare. Besides," he added with the flash of a grin, "I think you're the only person who's never complained about his babbling habit."

I waited a moment before responding, letting everything Geordi had said sink into my grief-fogged brain. Finally, I admitted, "I kind of like his babbling. I kind of have the same habit. And why wouldn't I treat him like any other person? I mean, _he_ does. Did. Whatever. I mean," I wasn't sure I was expressing myself with any kind of clarity, and I was less sure that I cared. "When he talks to me, I never feel like it's an adult talking to a kid. I may be his student, but outside of class, I'm another musician. God. I still can't wrap my brain around him being gone."

"None of us can," Wes said, reaching across the couch to touch my hand, a gesture I'd normally have rebuffed, but chose to allow.

I nodded. "Yeah. Okay." I was quiet again, just sitting there, until I realized my initial question had never been answered. "Um, unless you're both really hard up for conversation, I'm guessing there was an actual reason why you asked me to come here?"

Wes looked sheepish, and left it to Geordi to explain.

"We were disposing of Data's belongings," he said, his voice even softer than Wes's had been a few moments before. "We thought you might want his violin, or one of his paintings."

"You've got to be kidding," I said, as shock washed through me.

"Look, Zoe, you don't have to take it. I know you and Data spent a lot of time together, and…"

"You've _got_ to be kidding," I said again, and this time, I was beginning to feel anger.

"If there's something else you'd rather have…." Wes began.

I stood up. "You've GOT to be KIDDING! What are you – vultures? It's barely been a day. Seriously, you could at least give the body time to cool before you divvy up all the loot." I was half-shouting, and half-crying, and in the back of my head I could hear Data's voice correcting me on the exact length of time he'd been dead, even as I realized that Wes had released the hold on the door, so it would slide shut. We wouldn't want grief to cause a breach of Starfleet decorum, would we?

"Um, Zoe…his shuttle exploded. There isn't a bod-"

"Not now, Wes," Geordi cut him off. He stood up, and came around the desk, perching on the edge of it, and offering a handkerchief from somewhere in his uniform. "I guess it does seem pretty fast," he said to me. "And maybe I shouldn't tell you this, because I don't want to get your hopes up, but there's a part of me that isn't convinced Data really _is_ dead."

"Thanks," I muttered. I wiped my eyes on the soft, white cloth. "Is that actually possible?"

Geordi gave me an appraising look, and I wondered if his VISOR had the ability to read character as well as normal things like body heat. "You're a civilian," he said. "I shouldn't even be telling you this but…Lemme ask you something?"

I nodded.

"When you and Data meet for theory lessons, does he have a routine he follows?"

"You mean like tightening his bow, or specific warm-up exercises? Yeah. He does." I walked through it in my head. "Three turns, always, and then a bounce of the bow on the A-string. He tunes enharmonically, the same way I do…" I could tell that meant nothing to the engineer, so I explained. "Instead of tuning each string separately, you tune the top to an external pitch - or, I guess, to the pitch in your head, if you're Data – and tune the rest relatively. I could show you, but it really isn't important."

"No," he agreed, the hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. "But hearing you describe it, I can see a little of what he sees – saw – in you."

"Gee, thanks."

"Anyway," he said, ignoring my snark. "Wes and I spent part of the morning replaying the mission reports, and I feel like I've been missing something. Something about what he said. We could use a musician's ear, if you don't mind joining us in Engineering for a while?"

"Seriously, Zoe, we've listened to the recordings so many times, I'm not even sure we're hearing them correctly anymore," Wes put in.

"If I come, will you delay disposing of all this for at least a week?" I asked.

"Deal," Geordi said. "Do you need to let your mother know where you are?"

"I should," I said. "Or…maybe you could? 'Cause she'll never believe me if I tell her I'm going to a part of the ship where actual work is being done."

He managed a laugh, then tapped his comm-badge and contacted my mother. Meanwhile, I looked around a bit more, noticing a Lucite case holding a collection of medals. "Impressive," I said to myself.

Wes came up behind me and picked up the box. "He really was," my classmate agreed. "I hadn't realized he'd been decorated so many times, until I saw these earlier. I hope I'm half as successful as those medals imply, someday."

"Oh, you will be," I assured him, forcing a breezy tone. "Wesley the Wunderkind is doomed to succeed. It's your destiny." I managed a grin. "Sorry for losing it."

He shook his head, "I totally bawled in front of my mom this morning. It just means you care."

"Yeah," I said. "I do." There was a moment of silence before I added, "But if you tell _anyone_ about my little meltdown, I swear, Wesley Crusher, I will make your life a living hell."

He managed a grin at me. "Somehow," he said. "I don't doubt that in the slightest." He paused, and his attitude shifted to one of slightly goofy awkwardness. "Zoe…are we friends? I'm never sure with you."

I took a breath. "I kind of kept you at a distance because our mothers kept pushing us together," I said. "But, yeah, we're friends."

Geordi returned to the main part of Data's quarters. "Zoe, your mother is a little concerned that you haven't eaten anything."

"Apparently my eating habits are a hot topic today," I confessed. "Even T'vek was needling me about food. Can we eat and listen at the same time?"

"I could arrange a snack," the engineer allowed.

"Probably a good idea. Mom will believe me if I tell her I've had food, but Tev will make me produce witnesses." I glanced down at the floor, suddenly embarrassed. "Um, does Data have a bathroom, and if so, could I use it before we go?"

Geordi chuckled. "He does. And I'm pretty sure he wouldn't mind. Through the bedroom."

I went and did what I had to, pausing a moment to note the relative lack of personal care items. Oh, he had towels and a set of hair brushes, but none of the stuff my dad had in his bathroom – razors and shave cream and stuff. I turned on the sink to splash water on my face, and used the noise to cover my prying into his medicine cabinet. Fleet issue toothpaste, fleet issue shampoo, and…hair gel. For some reason, that last made me laugh, and I couldn't resist opening the tube to sniff it. I rolled my eyes, and muttered, "Scent free. Of course it would be." I resolved that if Data was actually alive, I would manage to get him to try something scented.

With that thought firmly in place, I dried my hands, and left the room.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43902.90**

**(Saturday, 26 November 2366, 13:28 hours, ship's time)**

Geordi's idea of a snack ended up being servings of vegetarian lasagna and glasses of iced tea, served in his office in Engineering. I'd never been in it before, and was surprised to find it somewhat homey. Diagrams – some on flimsies, some on actual paper, adorned the walls, and his desk was messy in the way that the workspaces of busy, creative people always are.

I knew the engineer was antsy to get going - he was investigating the loss of our mutual friend as well as working on the mission that led to the accident – but he patiently allowed us to be mostly finished with our food before he stopped the casual conversation we'd been having – sort of a 'getting to know you' chat – and called our attention back to the task at hand.

"Zoe, I asked you about Data's routine during your music sessions because I wanted to confirm a theory – that he doesn't deviate from routines. Does he follow the same procedure you described every time you meet?"

I thought about it for a moment. "Every time. Even for quartet rehearsal. It's almost like a ritual. Is that weird?"

"Ritual's a good word for it," Wes added. "He's the same way on the bridge, when he takes over the ops station. Always the same pattern of logging himself in, changing settings to the way he likes them…always the same order, down to the keystroke, and he chats about personal stuff only 'til he's done."

"Exactly," Geordi said. "Once he has a routine, he doesn't deviate from it unless there's a strong reason."

"I'm sorry," I interrupted, "But what does all this have to do with a shuttle exploding?"

He collected our plates and glasses and returned them to the food slot, then resumed his seat behind his desk. "I keep thinking there's something in one of his reports that might give us a clue. Here, listen…" He tapped his control panel a couple of times, and the sound of Data's voice doing a pre-launch checklist filled the room. "That's the first run."

"There were five, total," Wes informed me quietly. I just nodded.

Geordi informed the computer to play the next indexed report, and we heard the same words again. He was about to play the third, when he was paged to the bridge, and he canceled the command, sighing. "Guess we'll have to revisit this a little later," he said. "Thanks for your time, Zoe. Wes, walk her back to her quarters would you?"

I started to object, but thought the better of it. "Sorry I couldn't actually help," I said, rising from my own chair.

"Yeah," he said. "Me, too."

Wes and I left him in his office, though by the time we'd reached the doors leading out of Engineering, he'd rushed by us. "If he's alive, Geordi will find him," Wes said to me.

"Do you honestly think that's possible?" I asked, once we were in the turbolift.

"Knowing Data? Do you honestly think it's _not_?"

My smile was watery, but real. "Fair point. Look, Wes, we're not that close, and I hate to ask, but…if he does turn out to be alive, can you let me know? Like, the second you find out?"

He reached out as if to pat me on the back, but stopped before he made contact. "Sure, Zoe. I can do that."

"I mean, I don't want you to get into trouble…" I hedged.

"I won't." He hesitated a moment before adding, softly, "But if we're wrong…if he really is dead?"

"Save his violin for me, I guess," I said. "And…if it's not too weird, the portrait of his daughter."

"Lal?" he seemed really surprised. "But you never even met her."

"I know," I said. "But…we had a long talk about her one night on the way back from Serenity, and I think he'd approve."

"You two are connected," Wes responded cryptically, making me stare at him.

"Wes?"

He shook his head, "Huh?"

"Are you trying to weird me out?"

"Huh? Oh…no, sorry. I'll see what I can do."

The turbolift stopped, the doors opened on the deck where mom and I lived, and I left him standing there, looking really confused.

 

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43906.84**

**(Sunday, 27 November 2366, 23:59 hours, ship's time)**

For the next day and a half, I felt a little bit like my brain was wrapped in cotton, and the world around me was a slowly spinning Ferris wheel – disconnected, disordered, out of synch.

T'vek and I met for a walk in the arboretum, and then back to the aquatics lab to play with the baby bat rays – they were fish, but their faces reminded me of puppies, and the strain we had on the ship was actually trainable. Mom and I had dinner and watched a holo-video – a romantic comedy that was funny enough, I guess - and then I went to bed to put earphones on and blast music while reading myself into exhaustion.

I spent Sunday just hanging out in our quarters, not even bothering to change out of pajamas. Mom was on duty, so at least I was spared her concern and her lecture. I picked up my cello to practice more than once, but couldn't find the energy to do so, and ended up just noodling, before returning to the couch to indulge in a marathon of tri-vee comfort-viewing.

Finally, just before ship's midnight, I noticed a message flag on my padd. It was from Wesley, and had just two words. "Alive. Safe."

I sent a quick note to T'vek, repeating the information, and finally managed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously Geordi didn't really need input from Zoe to find Data during "The Most Toys." If you asked him, he'd probably confess he just wanted her to feel better. (Please note, she didn't solve anything. She never heard enough to even notice a deviation.) Wes's remark to Zoe in the turbolift might have been a random flash of Traveler-ness, and that may or may not come up again later.


	15. Parley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Data broods. Zoe wheedles. Midnight tea is sipped. (Takes place after the episode, "The Most Toys.")

**Stardate 43907.87**

**(Monday, 28 November 2366, 08:58 hours, ship's time)**

I woke up on Monday morning to find my mother waiting for me at the table in our quarters. She was sipping coffee, but had left a glass of orange-cranberry juice sitting at my place. "Morning," I mumbled sleepily.

"Back at ya, kiddo," she said, her gentle tone belying the flippant choice of words. "Join me?"

I padded across the room in bare feet. "Sure," I said as I sat down. "What's up?"

"I wanted to make sure you knew that Commander Data is actually alive, and has returned to the ship."

I had the good grace to look sheepish. "I kind of knew that already," I confessed. "Wes sent me a message last night. About the alive part, anyway."

She nodded. "I had a feeling he might." There was a long pause as she swallowed some of her coffee, grimaced, and pushed it aside. "Cold," she said.

"You could just replicate another," I pointed out.

"True enough," she agreed. "Commander Riker mentioned that you hadn't been aware of notification lists."

"Is that what they're called?" I asked, deflecting a little. "And, wait, how did _he_ know. I don't think I've ever even met him."

"You have; you probably just don't remember. My time at the Academy overlapped with his somewhat. We're not best friends, but we do talk, so when one of his department heads told him you'd reacted oddly to hearing you were on such a list –"

"It wasn't _oddly_ ," I interrupted. "I mean, how would _you_ feel if someone you'd only really known for a few months had you on their list?"

"If the 'someone' in question was also someone with whom I was spending quite a lot of time, much of which in pursuit of a mutual personal interest…"

"Mom, could you talk like _you_ and not a textbook?" When she was being all sciency, she sounded like Data, and I didn't want that right then.

She sighed. "Look, Zoe, Data and I are colleagues. I report to him in his role as head of Operations, but we don't work together directly very often – you know my specialty is considered a 'soft' science."

This I knew. "Okay, and?"

"And even I know that while he's always personable and amiable, he doesn't truly connect with many people. So if he has included you on his notification list, it means he considers you a real friend. And if I were you, I'd consider it an honor."

"Am I on _your_ list?" I asked, even though I was pretty sure of the answer.

"At the top," she said.

"Okay," I said. I was quiet for a while, before I asked, "Mom, do you think I spend too much time with him? With Data?"

"Do _you_ think so?"

I toyed with my juice glass while I thought about it, swirling it so the orange and cranberry juices would stay blended. "I don't know. It's just…people keep referring to me as his protégé, and Wes went all cryptic in the 'lift yesterday and told me I had a deep connection with Data, and sometimes I worry that T'vek is right, and I am crushing on him. A little."

My mother smirked. "Sounds like T'vek is a mite jealous."

I grinned. "Maybe a little." I shrugged, "But he's the one who makes me all dizzy and _ishy_ inside. He's the one I love. And when I'm spending time with Data, it's almost exclusively related to music. But, god, Mom, he's amazing with music. We're supposed to focus on theory, but right off the bat, he figured out I respond better when I can apply ideas, so we do textbook stuff for the beginning of our time, and then we play together. And… I get lost in it."

My mother's smile was a fond one, even though she reached out to take my glass and set it down on the table just firmly enough to make a point. "So, it's a good partnership?"

"The _best_. I wish… I wish I could stop taking lessons from Seth and _only_ study with him. I mean, he keeps saying he doesn't have feelings, and he kinds sucks at improvisation, but my technique has improved so much from playing with him, and theory actually makes sense now."

"Have you asked Data about that?"

I shook my head. "He's giving up so much time for me already; that really would be overstepping."

"It's your call, Zoe. If you want to take a break from formal lessons for a while, I'm sure your father would allow it."

"Only if he hears me play, and he hasn't since I've been here. There wasn't time on Serenity."

"You could have made time, instead of shopping."

"Give up a shopping spree on Dad's credit account? Mother! Bite your tongue." I was teasing her, and she knew it.

"Alright then. Call your father and discuss it with him, and let me know what you decide."

"I will."

"Make sure you ask him about Christmas, also - I think he wants you to spend the holidays with him."

"You mean with him and Gia," I corrected. "But… yeah. I'd already figured I'd be going home for the December holidays." I retrieved my juice glass and drained it in one long swallow – my way of making a point - then moved to the comm system to place the call to my father. I was interrupted by an incoming message informing me our math tutorial had been cancelled for the day. "Hey, Mom, I thought you said Data was back on the ship?"

"I did; why?"

"He cancelled tutorial this morning. Is something wrong with him?"

"I don't know much more than you do, Zoe, but I'd guess that he might be involved in debriefings."

"Oh," I said, feeling deflated. "Yeah, that makes sense."

She must have heard it in my tone because her next question was, "Can I believe this? Is my daughter disappointed over missing a math class?" This time her teasing was gentle.

"Not exactly. I just kind of wanted to see Data for myself. To know he's really back."

My mother stared at me for a long moment. "I have a meeting I need to get to," she said, getting up. "Make sure you eat something before you leave quarters." She ruffled my hair as she moved past me. "I love you, kiddo."

"Love you, too," I said, before getting up and moving to the food slot, determined to convince it that peanut butter on toast was a thing it could actually deliver.

**(=A=)**

With no math tutorial to attend, I didn't really need to rush to contact my father, but I didn't really have anything else to do, either. I placed the call and was happy to find he was actually available in real-time for a change. "Hey, Dad," I greeted his slightly out-of-phase image.

_"Zoetrope!"_ he seemed delighted to hear from me. _"How are you?"_

"'m okay," I said. "I guess. Data invited me to join his string quartet."

_"That's wonderful, darling,"_ my father enthused. _"I'd love to come hear you play sometime."_

"Would you," I asked, wrinkling my nose, "actually do that? I mean, wouldn't it be kind of awkward with Mom and stuff?"

_"Your mother and I aren't enemies, Zoe."_ His voice took on a more serious tone. _"And we both love you, so I think if it meant seeing you perform we'd be able to cope."_

"That's good to hear. I keep having these images of epic battles, cello bows used as swords, that sort of thing."

He laughed, as I'd hoped he would. _"What pieces are you working on?"_ he asked.

I ran down the list of the quartet music, and the music I was working on with Seth. "The thing is, Dad, I'm learning so much from working with Data that I feel like Seth doesn't have anything left to teach me, and sometimes he's a little creepy."

His Dad-alert instantly engaged. _"Creepy how? Has he done anything…?"_

"No, Daddy, I promise. Just…he keeps making comments that I seem really mature for my age, and that my boyfriend must be jealous of our time together. Stuff like that." I ran a hand through my hair and added softly, "He keeps wanting to put his hands on me to show me better positioning, better technique, but it's all kinds of skeevy. I made him move our lessons to a public space. And Tev – that's T'vek to you – walks me back to quarters, after." Well, he walked me back most days.

_"Have you told your mother?"_

"She knows I don't want to work with him, but not why. I'd like to ask Data if he could work with me exclusively, but I don't want to impose when he's done so much already."

_"I wish I knew him well enough to advise you."_ A thought seemed to occur to him. _"Have you mentioned your concerns about Seth to your Mr. Data?"_

"It's _Commander_ Data, Dad, not mister. And he isn't _mine._ " I was deflecting and we both knew it.

_"Zoe…"_

"Dad…" I sighed. "Okay, no, I haven't given him any details, either."

_"Why not?"_

"Because Seth hasn't actually _done_ anything. I've had other teachers reposition my arms or tell me to relax my shoulders, just as much. Aside from that, he's only made some creepy comments." I paused. "The thing is, if I tell Data, it's not like telling a friend, or even like telling Mom. If I tell Data, I'm telling the second officer of the whole ship, and it becomes official. It becomes a thing."  

_"Zoe, if Seth's behavior is making you uncomfortable, you need to tell someone. Your mother, at least. Something tells me Commander Data might have some inkling of how to separate a friend in need of advice from someone making an official complaint, though."_

"I'll consider it." I took a breath. "Mom said I should confirm holiday plans…?"

_"Your grandmother and I both miss you, Zoe-licious, and I'd want you here anyway, but Gia and I are planning a wedding – nothing huge or fancy – over the break, and it would mean a lot if you could be in it."_

"You're marrying her? Already?" I wasn't really as surprised as I probably sounded. More hurt. "You and Mom are barely divorced."

_"I know it feels sudden –."_

I cut him off. "It _is_ sudden. You only even told me about her a couple of weeks ago."

My father took a deep breath. _"You're right. I haven't been as open with you as I should have been. Nevertheless, Gia and I are getting married, and I would like my beloved daughter to be part of it."_

"Beloved, huh?" I asked, a smile threatening to take over my face.

_"Darling girl, I really can't do it without you."_ And his smile was the thousand-watt one that magazines and news agencies always talked about. _"Say you'll come."_

"Okay," I said. "I'll come."

_"And participate."_

"And participate. But, it'll cost you." I was smiling when I said it.

_"Clothes? Shoes?"_ He hesitated before asking, in a very small voice, _"You don't still want a pony?"_

"No pony," I said, grinning. "I was thinking more like flying lessons so I can get my license while I'm there…and maybe my own flitter. Xenon is making this cloud-to-ground model that comes in British racing green with white pinstripes, and a sunroof."

_"You're fifteen."_

"I'll be sixteen in January, Dad. As long as it's not more than thirty days before my birthday I can take the class, and Christmas is twenty-seven days before." I'd done my research, after all.

_"That's so old,"_ he said, teasing me.

"Yes," I agreed, "But I'll always be younger than you." I sing-songed it, as our personal tradition required.

_"You wound me, darling,"_ he accused, but he was laughing as he said it. _"You should probably go. I'll contact your mother to arrange travel."_

"Hey Dad, one more thing?"

_"Name it."_

"Can T'vek come? I mean, I can't possibly go to my own father's wedding without a date."

_"If his parents approve, I don't see why not."_

"Thanks, Daddy," I said. "Zoe out." And I closed the call. Then I opened the comm channel again, and asked the computer to connect me to Data.

_\- Lieutenant Commander Data is not receiving communications at this time._ came the computer's matter of fact announcement. _You may leave your name, leave a message, or close the comm-link._

"Leave a message," I said.

_-_ _Begin recording._

"Hi, Data," I said, feeling a little stupid. "I'm glad you're back, but I wish you hadn't cancelled class this morning. When you have time, I really need to talk to you. Please." I was silent after that, long enough for the computer to prompt me to end the recording. It seemed like a lame message, but I told it to save and send, anyway.

_\- Message sent._

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43914.24**

**(Wednesday, 30 November 2366, 16:45 hours, ship's time)**

 

I wasn't the only one of my friends who was pretty subdued on Monday, but it only got worse as the week drew on, and both Tuesday night's quartet rehearsal and Wednesday morning's math tutorial were cancelled as well.

That day, as T'vek and I walked to my voice lesson, he asked me, "Zoe, you know I love you, but…should I be jealous that you're this mopey over Commander Data cancelling class?"

"You're haven't exactly been a bundle of laughs yourself," I pointed out, "but there's nothing to be jealous of. I'm probably just overreacting." I managed a watery grin. "Would you feel better if I made a proposition?"

His grin was more wicked than watery. "Depends. What is it you're proposing?"

"Be my date to my Dad's wedding over Christmas. He says it won't be huge or fancy, but I'm betting it will actually be one or both of those things." I'd waited two days to ask him because a part of me was afraid he'd refuse.

"Why, Zoe Harris, are you inviting me home to meet your parents?"

"Why, Stevek Mairaj, are you being coy with me?"

We both laughed then, and I leaned up to kiss him. "I love you," I said. "Ask your parents if it's okay? Otherwise, I'll have to ask Sven the farmhand, and he might get…ideas…"

"Sven…the farmhand…?"

"Yep. He's six feet tall, blonde, muscly…"

"Zoe…"

"…thick as a brick, most of the time, but…"

"Zoe…!"

I blinked innocently. "Tev?"

"I would be honored," he said, "to escort you to your father's wedding… assuming my parents approve."

"Oh, good," I said. "Though, Sven will be bitterly disappointed."

We kissed some more, even though we were in the middle of the corridor, until he pulled away. "I have to go," he said. "See you tomorrow."

"Bright and early," I agreed. I went into my lesson feeling better than I had before.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43916.02**

**(Thursday, 1 December 2366, 08:23 hours, ship's time)**

Thursday morning, I met T'vek for an early breakfast in the rec hall nearest the rooms where we had most of our classes. It had become a pattern for us to sit there and quiz each other for our Federation History class, and since we had a test scheduled that morning, we wanted to be ready.

He was at our usual table, immersed in reading something on his padd, so I went directly to the food slot for hot chocolate and a strawberry and sweet cream cheese croissant, took my tray to the table, and slid into my usual seat before greeting him with "So, do you come here often?" offered in my most over-the-top seductress voice.

"Every week," he answered without looking up. "Better watch out; if my girlfriend sees you at her table she'll snark you to death, and make you enjoy the process."

"Mmm. I'm not afraid of a little snark. Is your girlfriend hot?"

"Not only hot, she's awesome."

"Awesome, huh? Is she around? I bet her ears are burning."

"C'mere," he said, "and let's find out what else might be."

I laughed, but I moved to his side of the table, and we ignored both books and breakfast for a make-out session.

"Could you two possibly get a room," Wesley Crusher's voice interrupted us.

"Hey, Wes," T'vek said brightly. I straightened up in my seat. "We're studying for history class. Join us?"

"Only if you're done –

"Playing tonsil hockey?" I asked, blinking innocently at him even as I finished his sentence for him. "But I was winning." He rolled his eyes and started to move away. "Wes, seriously, please stay?" I called.

"Okay, fine," he grumped, but he took a seat opposite us. "Captain Picard says I need more knowledge of history, anyway."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Does he really?"

"Yeah," Wes said. "Really. He's kind of a history buff."

"Probably has to do with that whole learn-from-mistakes-or-repeat-them thing," I said, tacking on "Hey, get your own!" when T'vek stole a bite of my croissant.

"But it looks so tasty," he protested.

"It is. But you don't like it when I'm mopey, so I'm self-medicating with unhealthy amounts of sugar."

"I'm sure Data'll be back in class tomorrow," T'vek said, putting down his padd, and taking one of my hands in his. With the other, he stole another piece of my croissant.

"Actually," Wes said, "he won't."

We both stared at him.

"He's talking to you?"

"Sort of. He was on the bridge this morning – I was there from four to eight – and he asked me to relay that class was cancelled. He was incredibly quiet otherwise, even for him, but he also had the conn, so…" He trailed off. "Zoe, I'm sure there's nothing really wrong with him, he's in charge of the prisoner."

"Prisoner?" I asked.

T'vek leaned forward, "Are you supposed to be telling us this?"

"Probably not," Wes admitted. "So if I tell you two, you'll keep it to yourselves?"

"Wait, aren't you the one who lives and dies by the book?" T'vek demanded.

It was Wes's turn to shrug. "Usually, I guess. But right now, I'm worried about a friend, and I think maybe Zoe can help."

"Me? Why me?"

"For the same reason Geordi and I called you down to Data's quarters the other day. You're important to him, and you're a civilian, which means _you_ don't have to worry about chain of command stuff."

"You came in here on purpose," I said. "You wanted to find us."

"Yeah," Wes admitted. "I did."

T'vek and I shared a look, and then we both leaned forward. "Okay," T'vek said in a low voice. "You have our attention. Spill it, Crusher."

Wes told us about Data being actually kidnapped by some megalomaniacal toy collector, and having been in the process of escaping, when the _Enterprise_ found him, and beamed him back.

"So, wait," I asked. "There really _was_ something off in the recordings Geordi was listening to?"

"Oh, yeah," he said. "The last time, he didn't finish the routine checklist."

"And Data never, ever, varies a routine," Wes and I said together.

"Guys," T'vek said. "Don't ever do that again."

"Agreed," I said to my boyfriend. I took a bite of my rapidly diminishing pastry before asking, "But what does this have to do with Data being off-duty, and cancelling things left and right?"

A troubled look crossed Wesley's face. "You weren't here when he built Lal," he said. "His daughter?"

"I was, but formal classes hadn't started yet, and I'd only been on board a couple weeks, when… Anyway, I know the story," I said. "He built her, she came to sentience, found emotions, and died of cascade failure." I softened my tone. "He… Data and I talked about it." Both boys sharpened their focus on me for a moment, as if they were surprised I'd been sharing intimate conversations with our tutor. "What?" I asked, suddenly irritated. "I'm very nocturnal and I couldn't sleep on the way to and from Serenity – especially after he caught us – well, anyway, he let me hang out in the cockpit with him for a while, and we talked, and since then… I mean… when you play music with someone it's kind of…" I was going to say 'intimate' but thought better of it. "It's kind of intense."

Tev reached covered my hand with his, still sticky from my purloined croissant.

Wes continued his story. "Yeah, well, afterward, he isolated himself from everyone for almost two weeks. He says he doesn't have feelings, but… things happen and he goes all internal."

"He broods," I said, turning my hand underneath T'vek's. "And you think he's brooding now?"

"Well, he's back on the bridge," Wes said. "But no classes, and Geordi says he isn't talking to anyone. Not him. Not the counselors."

"Which leads us back to the question," T'vek said as I pulled my hand back. "Why do you need Zoe?"

"I thought maybe you could reach him. Get him to open up and talk."

"Wes, I'm his student. Just like you are. Just like Tev and Josh and Dana are. "

"No," he said, "You're more. You speak his language."

"Music? You mean music?"

"Yeah. Also… I think maybe…"

T'vek stared at our classmate. "You think Zoe reminds Data of his daughter?"

Wes shrugged. "Yeah, maybe. She always so..." He caught my glare. "Sorry, Zoe. _You're_ always so easy with him. Casual."

"I'm really not," I said. "I'm supposed to have a lesson with him tomorrow morning. If he doesn't cancel it, I'll see what I can do.

"And if he does?"

"I don't know… maybe we could all stage a sit-in outside his door, or something."

"What's a sit-in?" T'vek and Wes asked, as one.

"Never mind," I said. "I'll try, okay?"

None of us studied any more, but we all aced the history test anyway.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43917.76**

**(Thursday, 1 December 2366, 23:36 hours, ship's time)**

I wasn't surprised when I returned home after classes to find that Data had, in fact, cancelled our theory tutorial, but I was disappointed. I thought about practicing anyway, but chose to spend the evening curled up with a book.

When Mom got home, it was pretty late – after eleven – and she looked tired and strained. "Shouldn't you be sleeping?" she asked me.

"No math again tomorrow," I said. "So, actually no. Did you eat?"

"We ate while working," she answered me. "We're piecing together the history of a previously unknown culture," she added. "Nothing dangerous, but Captain Picard came to check out some of the artifacts we were examining."

"I thought you were an anthropologist," I said.

"I am. I work with the archaeological and linguistic teams to put together a whole picture, based on artifacts, pictograms and writings, and even the way buildings are laid out."

"So, you're kind of like a detective?" I asked.

"Sometimes I am," she said. "What's behind this newfound interest in what I do?" She perched herself on the end of my bed.

"Maybe I've always been interested and just didn't want to tell you." I suggested, setting my padd aside so I could watch my mother's face.

"Afraid I'd inundate you with information?"

"Afraid you'd make me go look at dusty old ruins. I do _not_ do dust," I said.

"Mmm. I'll remember that the next time your room is a disaster area. Did _you_ eat, child-of-mine?"

"Oh, yes. I had a lovely bowl of chili with a tart little cheddar on top, and a glass of uttaberry soda. It was an audacious drink…a bit too much sparkle, but tasty."

My mother was laughing by the end of my speech. "Kiddo, you crack me up," she said.

I grinned and picked my padd back up. "Then my work here is done. G'night Mom, don't stay up too late."

Mom was still laughing. "I think that's my line." She rose to leave, but paused to ruffle my hair and kiss my forehead before she did.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43919.71**

**(Friday, 2 December 2366, 16:42 hours, ship's time)**

By the end of Friday, I was ready to storm Data's door and just demand he return to class, or at least that he reinstate our Saturday session. Not only was my routine off, but even Seth could tell that I hadn't practiced all week. He'd decided that technique was the order of the day.

"You aren't drawing the bow to its full extension," he told me, at one point. "Let me show you." He stood behind me, and put his hand over mine on the bow. His breath was hot on the back of my neck and I felt really uncomfortable. "Here. Now when you do a down-bow you should feel it all the way into your shoulder, and when you go up," and he pushed my arm the other way, "you should feel it, too. Do you?"

"I guess," I said. I leaned forward and away from him, but I couldn't play that way.

"Let's try again," he said, "together. Down." He guided my arm back. "And up. Now you try."

I did what he'd demonstrated but not before he'd let his hand trail up my arm. "Don't," I said.

"I'm only trying to help your technique," he said. He rested both hands on my shoulders. "Play the arpeggio from our warm-up. I want to feel it in your shoulder."

As I'd told my father, I'd had other teachers do similar things… and the truth was, there was nothing wrong in the act. Cello technique _is_ physical. But his manner was all wrong. "Seth," I said. "I understand what you want me to do, but I'm really not comfortable with this approach."

"I thought you told me," he said, "that you and Data were into a hands-on approach."

"Aren't you supposed to call him 'Commander Data'?" I asked, seething. "And anyway, hands-on doesn't mean literally having your hands on my body." I shrugged away from him, again wishing someone – anyone – would enter the observation lounge where we were working ever since I'd refused to meet in _his_ quarters.

"I saw you in the rec room this morning, with your boyfriend," he countered. "You didn't mind him touching you."

"T'vek waits for an invitation, and isn't eighty million years too old for me." I put down the bow and set my cello on the floor. "I have to go now."

"Your lesson isn't over," he said.

"Actually," I corrected him. "It is."

I packed my cello in record time, and while I didn't run, I walked exactly as quickly as one can while carrying a large, stringed instrument.

Mom wasn't home when I got there, but she'd left a message telling me I was welcome to swing by the lab if I wished to. I comm'd T'vek to see if he was available, but he had a chess date with his father, and Dana and Josh were double dating with Wes and Annette. Usually, a night alone was a rare gift, but tonight, I felt like I really needed company.

I put my cello away, had the replicator give me a bowl of tomato basil soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, and ate in the living room, in front of the entertainment unit. One of the shipboard vid channels was running a marathon of vintage pirate movies, so of course I had to watch.

Finally, I gave up on the night, took a shower, and went to bed.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43920.57**

**(Saturday, 3 December 2366, 00:12 hours, ship's time)**

I tossed and turned for several hours, only to wake up around midnight, suddenly in possession of the knowledge of exactly how I would get Data to come back to class.

I got out of bed, dressed in sweats and a big t-shirt, and grabbed my padd. Mom was still out – there was a message not to expect her before two -  so I left _her_ another message in reply, and made my way out into the dimly-lit corridor (because the ship was technically on night watch) and into the turbolift, to deck eight.

Outside Data's door, I took a deep breath and activated the annunciator.

It was probably just me, but when he asked, "Who is it?" his voice seemed heavier than usual, despite the tiny speaker. Also, I'd never before heard him ask whom a visitor might be. Usually he just called out for whoever it was to come in.

"Zoe," I said. "It's Zoe Harris. Please Data, I need to talk to you."

"It is very late, Zoe," came his too-polite response. "Perhaps we can speak at another time."

"I'm sorry," I said. "That won't do. Lieutenant Commander Data, under the brethren pirate code, and upon the honor of the Royal Navy, I hereby invoke the right of parley."

There was a long pause, but he hadn't cut the signal to the annunciator. Finally, he said, "Very well, Zoe Harris. You may enter."

The door slid open and I stepped inside his quarters to find the room filled with new paintings. Many of them were still wet; some were still in progress. Two figures were prominent in many of them. "Geez, Data, if this is supposed to be art therapy, you're kind of taking it to extremes." I blurted the words without thinking.

He just stared down at me, a paintbrush poised in each hand. "You said you needed to speak to me."

"Yeah," I said. "I do. Could you maybe set the brushes aside and make tea or something? Conversations like this are easier when you have something to fiddle with, you know, hold and stir and stuff."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43920.60**

**(Saturday, 3 December 2366, 00:28 hours, ship's time)**

If I hadn't known better, I'd have assumed that Data had fifteen-year-old girls show up at his door in the middle of every night. As soon as I'd asked for tea, he put the paint brushes in cups of water – at least I assumed it was water – and cleared away the canvases that were leaning against his couch.

"Please sit down," he said, his tone polite, but much cooler than I'd ever heard it. "Is there a particular blend of tea that you would prefer?"

"Lemon-mint, please," I answered. "With honey. Are you having some, too?"

His answer was given in his order to the replicator. "Computer, two cups of lemon-mint tea, hot, pot of honey." He turned back to me, then, and asked, "Do you require anything to eat with your tea?"

I refrained from rolling my eyes, as there was no way he would have known that I'd spent the past week being reminded to eat. "No, thank you," I said.

He brought the tea and honey on a tray, but he didn't have a coffee table near the couch – probably he didn't need one – so I dragged over one of his extra chairs to use in place of a table. He got the hint, and even offered a "Thank you, Zoe," very quietly before setting things down.

I spent an inordinately long amount of time doctoring my tea, watching the honey drip into the greenish-amber liquid in slow, thick swirls. Anyone else would have grown impatient. Anyone else would have prompted me to speak.

"So, here's the thing," I began, "I woke up this morning and was actually disappointed that you'd cancelled our math tutorial. Since it's a well-known fact that I detest math, I figure either I've got a deathly illness, or I miss my tutor – no, I miss my _friend –_ who also happens to _be_ my tutor, and who is also the one person in all creation who managed to make all the numbers and symbols and stuff into something I can at least pretend to understand."

"You are giving me undue credit," he said. "Your comprehension of the material has not appeared to change markedly since you joined the class."

"Are you sure about that?" I asked, dubiously.

"Your test scores prove it," he said. "However, what has changed is your confidence in your comprehension. I do not believe I can take responsibility for that."

"Well," I said, " _I_ believe you're wrong. It's you, Data. It's all you. My music is better because of you, too. Even my voice teacher commented that our theory studies have improved my ability to pick up new songs, that I'm using my voice 'more intentionally,' or whatever."

"I am gratified to know that my tutelage is helping you, Zoe," he said, still too-polite. "However, I do not understand why you felt it necessary to tell me this at such a late hour. Is your mother not concerned about your whereabouts?"

Is it possible I could have forgotten how frustrating he could be in only a week? "Maybe because I miss my _friend_ more than I miss my tutor," I said, setting my cup back on the tray. "Maybe because I've heard stuff about what happened to you – that you were kidnapped by some psycho toy collector – that you _shot_ someone." He looked at me sharply when I said the last bit. "Maybe because when everyone thought you were dead, Geordi and Wes made me come here and tell them what of your possessions I might want just because you stuck me on some list that I didn't even know about."

"What did you choose?"

The question threw me. "Excuse me?"

"I have learned that when a person dies, the people closest to that person are often soothed by having something physical to 'remember them by.' Geordi has standing instructions that if something irrevocable ever happened to me, he was to make sure my belongings were dispersed among my closest friends. I am curious about what you chose."

"I didn't, exactly," I said. "I mean, I came in here, and it felt all weird and wrong, and I yelled at Geordi about at least waiting for the body to cool."

"Had the explosion that apparently destroyed –

"Killed –" I interrupted.

He went on, unfazed, " – me been what it seemed, there would have been no body."

I rolled my eyes at him. "I know this. Do you really think I didn't know this? I just meant it was too soon. Especially since Geordi was convinced you weren't actually dead. He said something was off in the mission logs. Even asked me to be a fresh pair of ears, though that was just his attempt to make me feel better."

"Inviting your participation to give you something else to focus on would not be out of character for him."

"No. And sadly, having meltdowns is not always out of character for me."

"Did you help?"

I laughed. "Of course not. But I did get to hang out in his office and have lunch. Will you tell me what really happened? Did you really shoot someone?"

"It would be more accurate to say that I shot _at_ someone. The beam never hit its intended target."

" _You_ missed?" I didn't believe it for a second.

"I was taken by the Enterprise's transporter beam as I pressed the trigger. The weapon was in a state of discharge and was deactivated during my transit."

"They can do that?"

"Yes," he said. "They can."

I glanced around at the paintings. "So which of the people in the paintings is the one you shot?" He opened his mouth to correct me, and I amended my question slightly, "Shot at. Whatever."

He gestured to the male figure, wearing a hat, and I shivered. "That man has a black soul," I said.

"I was not aware it was possible to catalogue the color of a soul."

"It's more an expression. It means he reeks of evil. Unless you just painted him that way. He was the collector?"

"Yes."

"I'm guessing he didn't want you for your awesome intellect, handsome visage, and stunning conversational skills?"

"He wished to include me among his objects of art."

"That's awful." I stared at the painting, at all the different images, each as dark as the others. "Did he have other people in his collection?"

"I do not believe Kivas Fajo perceived me to be a person."

"But you are."

"There has been some debate about that," he admitted.

I shrugged. "Anyone who spends five minutes with you, and still disagrees that you're a person is either blind, bigoted, or stupid. Quite possibly all of the above." The look I gave him dared him to defy the Wisdom of Zoe. He chose not to. "Who's the other person? The woman? She looks sad."

"Her name was Varia,"

"Was?"

"Fajo killed her as we were attempting to leave."

"To stop you?"

"To make a point." He clipped those words, almost as if he was angry about the situation, but I knew if I pressed he'd tell me he couldn't feel anger.

I looked back at the picture of my friend's former captor. "Yeah," I said. "Definitely a black soul." I let that thought rest in the space of the room for a moment, picking up my tea again, and actually sipping some. After a bit, I asked, "So, is that why you're in your quarters brooding instead of helping to mold the minds of the Federations future leaders? Because you feel responsible for someone's death?"

"I am _not_ responsible for Varia's death," he said, and something in his demeanor told me not to question him on that point. "However," he confessed. "Kivas Fajo had dropped his weapon before I aimed mine at him."

I don't know how it all clicked together in my head – maybe it had to do with all the horror and detective vids I liked to watch. Maybe it was just weird luck. "Oh my god," I said. "You're freaking out because you _wanted_ him dead."

I expected him to tell me he wasn't – couldn't be – freaking out. I expected him to deny his desire to kill the guy who'd wanted to just… collect… him. Instead Data admitted softly, "Yes, Zoe, I did. But I should not have. Vengeance is not part of my programming."

"Apparently, it kind of is," I said.

"I have been conducting self-diagnostics and processing my behavior, since then," he added. "Cancelling classes was necessary until I was certain I was not… compromised."

I stared at him for a long moment. I watched his face, then looked down at his hands that were clasped in his lap. His tea had remained untouched. I set mine back down. "Are you conscious of every tiny part of your programing?" I asked. "I mean, you blink, but are you conscious of every blink, or do you just sort of _know_ that you do?"

"I _can_ be aware of each movement," he said. "I generally choose not to be."

"Well, maybe there's bits of your programming that decide that vengeance might actually be an appropriate response in certain cases. Maybe it's a bit you're not supposed to be aware of. Kind of like hypo-sprays."

"Hypo-sprays?"

"Sure. Little kids, even older kids sometimes, when they're getting ready for school, they get routine booster shots of common vaccinations. Hypo-sprays pinch a little, but it's really not that bad. Except, if you know it's coming, what you anticipate it feeling like is way worse than what it actually _does_ feel like. If you don't look, though, if you don't see the thing coming at your arm, it doesn't hurt."

"Your theory is that there are parts of my program that I am meant to…  not look at… so they do not… adversely affect me?"

"It would probably sound a lot more plausible if I used proper terminology,"

"Perhaps," he agreed. "Nevertheless it is an interesting theory."

I shrugged. "Well, it's either that or you have to admit you might actually have a few emotions lurking in there somewhere."

He raised both brows, appearing to think it over, but all he said was, "Hm."

Again, we lapsed into silence. Just before the silence became awkward, I asked, "Kivas Fajo… he's still on the ship, isn't he? Geordi said there was a prisoner?"

"Yes," he said. "He will remain in the brig until we reach the next Starbase."

"Do you still want him dead?"

"He will be dealt with by the proper authorities."

"That's not what I asked." I took a breath. "Look, I'm not going to repeat anything you tell me. I mean, if we're friends, there has to be trust right?"

"Yes."

"Yes, you still want him dead, or yes you trust me?"

"Yes," he said again, this time with the merest hint of a smirk.

"Data…!" I wanted to launch myself at him, and tackle him with a hug. Instead, I looked around at the paintings again. "Have you ever played darts?"

"No," he said. "I have not. Why?"

"I have an idea. One that will enable you to cease the obsessive painting of soulless sociopaths before there's no more canvas left in the sector. Might even help cure your bloodlust." I smiled to show him I was teasing about the last part, then got up off the couch, taking the tea-things with me. I returned the still-full mugs, and asked the computer to replace them with new ones. Then I asked for a set of darts, which I added to the tray. "Can you get black and red paints and brushes please?" I asked.

"You wish to paint something as well?"

"Me? No. I have the artistic ability of a sand flea. You are going to paint a bull's eye on one of the pictures of Fajo." He gave me a quizzical look. "You know, a target, like on a dart board. I'm sure you can look it up faster than I can explain."

He rose to his feet, but still seemed uncertain of my plan. Nevertheless, he painted the concentric red and black circles on the painting I chose, then, at my urging, hurled darts at it. "Is this supposed to be cathartic?" he asked, after landing all three darts dead-center.

"You tell me."

"I do seem to be less inclined to create more images of him." In fact, he painted circles on another of the images, and repeated the process. "I am not certain the bull's eye is necessary."

"For you? Probably not."

He threw darts until every single one of the paintings of Kivas Fajo had been essentially obliterated. Then he quietly gathered the torn canvases and bundled them to be taken to the larger recycling chute at a later time. He also put away the paints, leaving only three images of Varia left in the room.

"I'm guessing flinging darts at her would be inappropriate?"

"Yes," he said. "But I do not believe I need to keep all three images." He came back to the couch, where I had moved to the corner that had been his before, the better to watch him with the darts. I'd been sipping my replacement tea the whole time. "Was my prolonged absence from your classes the only topic you wished to discuss, Zoe?"

"Not exactly," I said. "If you hadn't cancelled tomorrow's theory lesson, I'd have waited to bring up one of my other topics 'til then. Although, I should probably confess that I haven't practiced all week. Mostly, I want to know why I'm on your notify list. I mean, we really haven't known each other _that_ long."

"Is a lengthy history a requirement for all close friendships?" Data asked. "Consider the number of hours we have been spending together, not only in your math tutorial, but theory lessons, quartet rehearsal, and the occasional social event."

"You consider lunch a social event?"

"When eaten in the company of others, in the Ten-Forward lounge, it would seem to qualify."

"Okay, that's fair."

"Consider also that you came here tonight to confront me about not being present at usually scheduled times."

"I really didn't think you'd actually let me in," I said. "Wes said you weren't even talking to Geordi. Isn't he your best friend?"

Data's eyes widened slightly, but he answered the question. "He is. However, Wes's analysis is not entirely accurate."

I cocked my head at him, in much the same way he often did when he was confused or needed time to process information. "So you _have_ been communicating with –" I cut myself off. "You know what, that's none of my business, and I've been pretty nosy already."

"Concern for a friend and being 'nosy' are not the same thing. You are curious. Have we not agreed that this is a trait we share?"

I grinned at him. "Guilty, as charged, sir," I said. "You still haven't answered my original question, though."

"No," Data agreed. "I have not. Nor have you told me which of my personal items you did not 'exactly' choose."

"I'll tell if you do?" I offered, teasing.

He picked up his cup of tea, which I'd covered with a saucer to keep from cooling too much, and sipped some, probably just to be social. "I believe we have a bargain."

"I asked for your violin," I said, then hesitated. "I asked for something else, as well, but when I asked for it I felt like I was implying our friendship is deeper than it really is, and I couldn't really explain why I wanted it."

"You know you cannot offend me," he reminded gently.

"I have a feeling that's not entirely true," I said. "But I asked for the portrait of your daughter. I thought someone should have it who wasn't…I don't know…official. And I couldn't stand the thought of it being destroyed."

One of his rare 'organic' smiles flitted across his face, and the look in his eyes seemed just a fraction warmer. "It would have been an honor to know that Lal's portrait was in your care," he said, and even if it was spoken in the same matter-of-fact tone he used to explain why strings vibrated at specific frequencies, in that moment, it didn't matter.

I smiled back at him. "I'm glad you approve," I said. "But I'm even gladder that you're not actually dead."

"As am I," he agreed.

"So, kind sir, keep your part of the bargain, or pay a forfeit," I said, using my best bubbly voice, in order to lighten the mood. I still wanted to know why he deemed me list-worthy, but suddenly it was only a 'want' rather than a 'need.'

"A forfeit?" he asked. "Does that mean you no longer wish me to answer your question?"

"It means," I said, "that I think I already know, and I suspect that time will confirm my theory. It also means I haven't heard you play the violin in a week, and I really miss it." I gave him the winsome look that always worked on the other men in my life – T'vek, my father, the really hot counselor I'd crushed on during music camp the year before – "Would you please play something for me, Data?" I asked.

"I would be happy to," he agreed, standing up with the obvious intent of fetching his violin, but before he had even begun his customary tuning ritual, his comm-badge chirped, and he flashed an apologetic look at me, then tapped it to respond. "Data here."

_"Commander, I'm so sorry to bother you at this hour,"_ came my mother's voice. _"This is Emily Harris. Is my daughter still with you?"_

He glanced at me, and I rolled my eyes, but nodded for him to answer. "Yes, Emily. Zoe is with me. Would you like her to return to quarters?"

_"Would it be an imposition if I stopped by and picked her up?"_

Again he glanced at me, and I gave a thumbs-up signal. "Not at all, Emily. We have completed our discussion."

_"Thank you, Data. See you soon. Harris out."_

"I am afraid I will have to 'owe you one,' Zoe," he said, turning back to me.

"Any chance you'd consider un-cancelling theory tomorrow? Or today? Or… you know what I mean."

"I believe, in the light of our conversation, that reinstating our lesson would be appropriate. However," and his voice took on the tone he used almost exclusively to tease me, "I was under the impression you did not practice this week. Are you certain you wish to –"

I cut him off, not with words, but by standing up and wrapping him in an impulsive hug. "Stop." I said. "Data, please? If I suck, I suck, but I don't want to miss another Saturday."

He seemed to understand that it wasn't just about the music, just as me hugging him wasn't just about his agreeing to go ahead with our lesson, but was also my need to know he was really, truly, alive. Awkwardly, his arms came around me, in an embrace that was just close enough to be comforting without being inappropriate. "Alright," he said softly. "As you wish."

"Thank you," I said, though it was muffled against his uniform jacket. I stayed there a bit longer before pulling away and looking up at him a bit sheepishly. "Sorry."

Whatever he had planned to say was cut off by the door chime. "Enter," he called. "Emily, I am sorry to have kept Zoe so late."

My mother and I shared a look, and for a moment I thought she was going to chastise me in front of him. Instead, she simply gave each of us the smile that I tended to refer to, at least mentally, as her 'gushy Mom look,' and reached for my hand. "It's fine," she said. "At least if she's with you, I know she's not getting into trouble. Goodnight, Data."

I let my mother lead me into the corridor, adding my own, "G'night, Data."

"Goodnight Zoe," he replied, "I will expect you here at ten-hundred hours."

His door slid shut, and my mother let go of my hand, only to catch me by the waist. We hadn't walked that way in a while, and I was surprised to find I was almost as tall as she was. "So, exactly how much trouble am I in?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "None. Tonight you get a bye."

"Dare I ask why?"

"Call it a mom-thing, accept it, and move on, Zoificus," she said. We entered the turbolift, and she let go of me. "You look better. Happier."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I kind of am."

"Must've been a pretty good talk."

I smiled, thinking about everything that had happened with Data and me in the last few hours. Darts, tea, conversation… our first proper hug. "Yeah, Mom," I said, smiling. "It was a _really_ good talk."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it said in the summary, this takes place after The Most Toys. We never get to see what happens after, but if Data was ready to pull himself off the bridge during the war games when he managed to lose a game of Stratagema, I think it's plausible that he'd go all broody after pointing a weapon at an unarmed man.


	16. Art and Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after their midnight parley, Zoe and Data resume music studies. T'vek shows off an art project. Someone gets a terrible case of Levodian flu.

**Stardate 43921.76**

**(Saturday, 3 December 2366, 10:41 hours, ship's time)**

"Zoe, your intonation is incorrect in the second measure of section C," Data informed me during my theory lesson the morning after our midnight parley. We were in his quarters, but at some point I'd stopped feeling awkward about it. He had, I'd noticed when I arrived, removed the remnants of the paintings he'd darted to death, as well as the three of Varia.

"Incorrect how?" I asked. We'd finished the 'theory' portion of the morning, and had moved on to 'application.'

"You are flat."

"Flat-flat or android-flat?"

He cocked his head slightly, "In my understanding, you are either playing the correct note, or you are not. There is no special android tuning." His tone changed on the last three words, but didn't quite include his usual audible quotation marks. Instead, it sounded almost something like I would have said, which should have been weird, but somehow wasn't.

"Wow, Data, I spend one night hanging out in your quarters, and I've turned you into a snark-monster."

"If I have offended you –"

"What, are you kidding? It's _awesome_!" I waited a beat, then added, "You might want to avoid it around people who outrank you, though." He nodded his acknowledgement and I played the note in question again. "Better?"

"Yes. Now play the phrase."

I did as he asked.

"You are still slightly off," he informed me.

"Data, there may not be special android tuning but there is absolutely special android hearing. If I can't hear the flatness, I can't correct it."

"That is a valid complaint. One moment." He picked up his violin and played the phrase I was having trouble with. "Does that help?"

"A little," I said. "Could you play that E again?" He did so, and I rolled my eyes at him. "Could you play it and sustain it?" I requested, not bothering to tack on a perfunctory, 'please.'

I adjusted my fingering to match his pitch, and even though I still couldn't _hear_ the dissonance he had assured me was there, I felt it when my adjustment had us in perfect synchronization. "Ohhh!"

"You can hear the difference?"

"I can _feel_ the difference," I said. "The change in the way the string vibrates. Thank you."

"It is unlike you to be unable to discern a wrong note," he observed.

I shrugged. "I was a little congested when I got up this morning. I'm a little dehydrated and didn't get enough sleep. I'm probably not hearing things the way I should."

"If you are ill," he said, his tone modulating into his concerned voice, "perhaps we should end this session now."

If I had been younger, I would have pouted. Fifteen-year-olds didn't pout, though. Well, at least not where people could see. "I don't know," I teased. "I kind of like this slightly snarky version of you. Leaving early would deprive me of the pleasure."

He didn't even take a second to consider. "Then we will continue. From the first measure of section C, please." He flipped his violin back into position, and we played the piece – a Weber composition arranged as a duet for violin and cello – together, once straight through, and then again, with him stopping me to adjust my intonation. "You are uncertain of the fingering in the last section," he observed.

"I _did_ tell you that I hadn't practiced all week," I reminded him. "Did you think I was exaggerating?"

"It is a tendency you do seem to have," Data responded. "Though you generally only do so for humorous effect."

"True," I admitted, but then I added softly, "I _couldn't_ practice last week." To his credit, he didn't ask me why. I shook my head to clear it, and offered him a bright smile. "I'll work on the fingering, okay? But before we try it again, could _you_ maybe try the same section with a little more legato? I think it would sound better. And don't tell me whichever violinist you've chosen to emulate didn't play it that way," I added, hoping to ward off the inevitable response.

His mouth opened and then closed again. "I will not," he agreed, "tell you any such thing. Shall we play the last section again, together?"

"Yes, please." He sketched out the beat with his bow, and we repeated the last section of the piece with both our modifications (my intonation, his style). When we finished, I grinned at him. "That," I said, "was _fantastic._ I wish I could do all my cello studies with you."

"I concede that you were correct about the legato," was his response, but he seemed to recognize that something more personal was required. "I also enjoy our duets, Zoe. Thank you for insisting that we meet today."

"I'm glad you approve," I teased. But when I spoke next, it was with a more serious tone. "Data, last night when you asked if there was another reason I needed to talk to you," I began, but the door chime sounded, cutting me off.

"One moment," he said to me, before raising his voice slightly to call, "Enter," in the direction of the door, which opened to reveal Geordi.

The chief engineer walked in already talking rapidly. "Data, we just got the conference room specs for Ambassador Sarek's meeting with the Legarans. I could use your advice on a couple of these parameters." He noticed me, still sitting with my cello. "Oh, sorry, Zoe, I didn't think you were meeting this morning."

"Zoe stopped by last night with a very persuasive argument for reinstating her originally scheduled lesson."

"Which we've finished," I said, loosening my bow, and getting up to grab my gig bag. "I'll be out of your way in a minute."

"I hope I'm not chasing you away," Geordi said.

I shook my head. "You're not, though I wouldn't blame you after I yelled at you the other day." My expression turned slightly sheepish. "Sorry about that."

"Why did you yell at Geordi?" Data asked as I finished zipping up my bag.

"He can explain better than I can," I said. "Thanks for your time." I eased my way to the door. "Um, will you be back in class on Monday?"

"Unless duties call me away, I will be there," Data answered.

"Super," I said. "See you." Darting out would have been so much simpler if I'd taken up viola instead of cello. Fortunately, Geordi was enough of a distraction that Data didn't call me back to continue the conversation I'd barely started.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43921.93**

**(Saturday, 3 December 2366, 12:11 hours, ship's time)**

T'vek was waiting for me when I got home, slouched against the bulkhead, one knee bent up. If he'd been holding a guitar, he could have been the poster boy for almost every slightly disreputable teen band ever. Even without a guitar, seeing him made my heart beat faster. "Hey, handsome," I greeted, "are you lurking out here because my mother's home, or because she's not?"

He straightened his posture in one smooth, fluid, motion. "Your mother doesn't scare me," he said softly, leaning in for a kiss, a chaste – sweet even – buss across my lips. "But she's not here, anyway. Take that for you?" He gestured to my cello.

"Pretty sure I can manage another few meters," I said, laughing, but the laugh turned into a cough. "Or maybe not." The door responded to my access code, sliding open to let us in.

"You okay?" T'vek asked.

I shrugged. "I woke up congested, and I feel a little tired, that's all. Also Data and I working on this duet, and it's all kinds of intense. Are we going to the holodeck or do you have other plans for us for the afternoon?" I stowed the instrument in my room while I was talking. "Do I need to change?" I called.

"Never!" he called back, but then he was leaning against the frame of my bedroom door. "And you're dressed appropriately, too. I thought we'd eat here – if your mother approves – and then go to the arboretum."

"On Saturday afternoon? Won't it be crowded?" The arboretum was a popular destination for couples of all ages aboard the _Enterprise._

"Probably, but there's something there I want to show you."

"This isn't going to be tree identification one-oh-one is it?" I asked, "'Number one, the larch. The. Larch.'" I was quoting ancient Monty Python, something my father had introduced me to when I was incredibly young. My awesome boyfriend didn't know the context, but laughed anyway.

"No," he said. "I promise. This thing… it's something so amazingly stellar that you'll be singing my praises for weeks, after."

"Let me check with Mom, then," I said, and I tapped the comm-badge I'd been forced to include as part of my wardrobe. My mother approved our plan, and told us to have fun, and I turned back to T'vek. "So, what's for lunch?"

He stared at me for a long moment. "We're in your quarters," he said.

"Yeah, but you invited me, so you have to make lunch. Don't worry, I'm not much of a snob."

"Grilled cheese and tomato soup?" he suggested.

I grinned. "Works for me."

We walked out to the main room, and he took care of ordering our food from the replicator and carrying it to the table, which was good because my head was starting to hurt, and my throat felt a little scratchy. I coughed again, and he looked up in alarm. "Are you _sure_ you're okay?"

I brushed him off, "Something is caught in my throat; that's all."

We finished lunch, and went to the arboretum, where T'vek's surprise was that the art and design students were hosting an 'art in the park' event. Light jazz wafted through the trees, and there were grids set up throughout the space, each holding a few paintings, or setting off a pedestal with a piece of sculpture on it. "So," he said, as we stopped in front of a sculpture made of various pieces of metal. "This one's mine."

I'd been only half-paying attention to the exhibits we'd passed, not because I didn't like art, but because my head was starting to hurt more, and swallowing was becoming positively painful. In response to my boyfriend's eagerness, however, I pushed through the ickiness I was feeling, and looked at his sculpture.

Constructed from pieces of metal of varying shapes, sizes, and colors, and standing about half a meter high, T'vek's creation was a person cradling a cello, about to draw the bow. She – for the figure was clearly female – had hair made of - "Is that electrical filament? Tev, this is awesome."

"It's you," he said softly. "I was trying to capture music in the metal, but the shapes kept pointing me to the musician instead. It's called 'found' art," he continued, "because the components came from the dead parts bin in one of the computer labs, and from the recycling bay, and… stuff."

"It's amazing," I said. " _You_ are amazing."

He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close, "Maybe I just have an amazing muse."

I kissed him quickly. "No one's ever called me a muse before," I said. "A _mus_ ing, sure, but never an actual muse."

"Clearly," he said, his voice getting all low and husky, the way it always did when he was feeling really emotional, "you haven't been traveling in the right circles."

I would have happily kept staring at his sculpture for the rest of the day, but T'vek wanted me to meet some of the other design students. Two were ahead of us in school, one was two years behind, and then there were a few officers of different ranks who were taking some of the art and design classes as hobbies, or to learn new skills.

We stopped at more exhibits and he introduced me to his classmates and to the instructor, a stocky Tellarite Lieutenant named Karel who was much more jovial than his appearance would have led me to believe. "Ah, so you're the girlfriend. Pleasure to meet you, Zoe."

Ordinarily, I'd have objected to being referred to as 'the girlfriend,' but he clearly meant no offense, and it was T'vek's day. "Actually, Tev says I've been elevated to muse," I said, the words coming out a bit raspy.

"Just for the day," he clarified.

"Wait there's a time limit? You didn't tell me there was a time limit."

Karel laughed at the pair of us, "And now it all makes sense," he said, "why our Tev's been so inspired. Zoe, the lot of us are heading to Ten Forward as soon as this event ends. I'd love it if you joined us."

"That'd be lovely," I said, glancing at T'vek, "if you don't mind?"

He shook his head. "I'd mind if you didn't come."

The parents of one of the younger students came up to visit with Karel then, and we moved away to sit on one of the benches. "Okay," I said, "I knew you were smart, and I knew you did art, but Tev, you've seriously impressed me today." I coughed again, then leaned back against the bench.

"Zoe, you're getting sicker." He released our clasped hands and put his on my forehead. "And you're burning up."

"I feel fine," I insisted, but again, it came out raw and scratchy. "Besides, how can you tell if I've got a fever. You're always warmer than I am.  Really, nothing's wrong. Well, except for my throat."

"And the headache you're trying to hide."

"And that," I admitted.

"You should go to sickbay. Call your mother and have her meet us there."

"For a sore throat? It's probably just something I ate."

"Replicator food isn't supposed to cause allergic reactions, Zo'," he said. "And any illness can be disaster on a starship. Didn't anyone ever warn you about the dangers of recycled air."

"Heard that," I said. "But I assumed it was an exaggeration."

"Do you want to take that chance?" His dark eyes were wide and worried. "I'll walk you to sickbay, and call your mother for you," he coaxed. He could tell I was considering it, so he added, "Zoe, it's _because_ I'm always warmer than you are that I know there's a problem. You usually feel cool when I touch you. Right now, you don't."

I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I reopened them my vision felt a little swimmy. "Okay," I said. "When you call my mom, make sure you send my love."

He laughed softly, then took my hand again. "Absolutely."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43922.26**

**(Saturday, 3 December 2366, 15:02 hours, ship's time)**

I don't remember the walk to sickbay, except in vague glimpses of T'vek being a human - well, human _oid_ – crutch. I don't remember Alyssa Ogawa ushering me onto a bio-bed and wrapping me in a blanket, as I'd gone from feeling vaguely headachy and hot to having convulsive shivers in the time it took to ride the 'lift a couple of decks.

I _do_ remember Wesley's mother and Captain Picard leaving the former's office together, the latter with a napkin still tucked into the collar of his uniform – apparently they'd been having a lunch date – and I _do_ remember, with perfect clarity, that the bright lights and bustling people and the headache that had gone from zero to a gazillion in about five minutes, made me nauseous. T'vek's offering of tomato soup had been the worst possible choice (though no one ever blamed him) and I couldn't help it when the waves of nausea turned into actual vomiting.

I swear I never meant to puke all over the captain's boots.

" _Merde!"_ The French epithet came out of his mouth almost explosively, but within a breath he had recovered himself, removing the napkin-bib even as an orderly brought a more absorbent towel to help him clean up.

Blearily, and too ill to be as embarrassed as I otherwise might have been, I managed. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry."

Captains are apparently well-trained in the whole grace-under-pressure thing, because his response was a light, "There's nothing to be sorry for; I should have known better than to crowd a patient." He paused, looking me over, then added, more as a clarification than a direct question. "Zoe Harris, isn't it?" I managed a weak nod – bad choice – and he continued, "You're Mr. Data's protégé."

I didn't have the energy to roll my eyes, but I did find enough oomph to manage an apologetic grin and say, "Yeah, that's me. But I promise, sir, Data didn't teach me _that._ "

Do you get a gold star if you make the captain of a ship bark with laughter after puking on his shoes? If so, I totally earned mine just then.

"Way to make a first impression, Zoe," T'vek whispered to me, his remark covered by the arrival of my mother.

"Zoe, sweetie, are you alright?" my mother gushed worriedly.

"Her temperature's dangerously high, and she's congested," Dr. Crusher answered for me, snapping shut the medical tricorder she'd been scanning me with the whole time. "I'll need a blood sample to be certain, but based on the symptoms she's presenting, and the rapid onset, I'm pretty sure she has the Levodian flu."

"And that means?" my mother asked.

"As flus go, this one's relatively harmless – lie down, Zoe, you'll be more comfortable – we'll give her medication to reduce the fever, and treat the symptoms." She directed the rest of her speech to me, though I saw her signal the nurse to get the necessary blood sample. "You'll be pretty miserable for the next two or three days – congested, achy, dizzy, probably tired – but the worst of it is typically over in about forty-eight hours, and it almost never lasts longer than seventy-two."

I let the rest of the conversation wash over me, as the voices of my mother, my boyfriend, and the medical staff discussed treatment and care. At one point T'vek came closer to tell me he had to go to the reception – he promised to save me a slice of cake if it was chocolate – and I heard my mother thanking him for taking care of me, before asking Dr. Crusher where I would have picked up a virus.

"Levodian flu has a ten-day incubation period," Wesley's mother told my own. "And even though it's a relatively harmless strain, it's fairly robust in terms of virulence. Lieutenant Barclay came in with a mild case a couple days ago."

"Zoe doesn't typically spend time with engineering officers," my mother observed. "Oh, but he helped the kids with their theme park project."

"That would do it," she agreed.

I let the soft the soft beeping of the bio-bed lull me into sleep at that point. When I woke up again, my mother was in a chair near the bed, and T'vek was long gone.

"Hey," I called, then grimaced because my throat still felt raw. "Mom?"

"Hey, yourself, kiddo," she answered me softly. "Feeling any better?"

"Less puke-y, more achy," I croaked. "Thirsty." I looked around sickbay, and added wistfully, "Wanna go home."

"Let me get the doctor," my mother said. She left my sight for a minute or two, returning with a nurse, who recorded my vital signs from the bio-bed display, helped me sit up, sprayed my throat with something that took the pain away, and gave me a cup of ice chips. "If you can keep these down," she said, "you'll get to move up to water, later."

"When do I get to go home?" I asked, not feeling up to even minimal snark.

"That," the nurse answered, "is up to the doctor."

I nodded, wished I hadn't, and then popped an ice chip into my mouth.

Dr. Crusher appeared a few minutes later. "Good to see you sitting up," she said. "How's your head."

"Sore," I said. "Dizzy."

"Mm. It will be for another day or so. We're going to give you another hypo-spray now, though, which should help." She checked the readout on the bio-bed. "Your fever was down, but it's rising a little. That's actually normal for this flu," she explained, including my mother in the conversation. "Your temperature will fluctuate until the fever breaks."

"Can I go home?" I asked.

"I'd prefer to keep you here, where we can keep an eye on you," she said, but apparently saw the distress and discomfort in my expression, and added, in a teasing voice, "Wes has told me stories about your adventurous spirit."

I managed a weak chuckle. "'m devious, not stupid," I told her. "Anyway, I'm too tired to be adventurous."

"Sleep's the best thing for you, actually," she agreed. "If your mother is alright with you returning to quarters, I'll allow it. Emily," and she changed her stance slightly, so that my mother wouldn't have to get up to listen, "Zoe should sleep as much as she can. The first two days are the worst, so, if you can't change your duty shift, make sure someone's with her – preferably an adult – if she's anything like my son, she'll convince her friends she's fine even if she isn't."

"I would never…" I began, but both women gave me pointed looks, so I was forced to confess. "Well, actually, I probably would."

"How are you doing with the ice chips?" the doctor asked me.

I showed her the empty cup.

"No nausea?"

"Not right now. I have to pee, though."

She grinned. "Go use the restroom, and come back. If your stomach is still okay, I'll arrange a hover-chair and send you home."

I thought about arguing about the hover-chair, but a glare from my mother quelled the urge. Instead, I went to bathroom, taking time to splash water on my face before I left the room, and then returned to the bio-bed. "No puke-age," I said.

Dr. Crusher laughed at that. "Okay, okay." A really buff ensign in science blue came over with the chair. "Ensign Le will escort you back to quarters. I've give your mom instructions – bed rest through Monday afternoon. No classes this week. "

"What about quartet rehearsal?"

"'Fraid not, Zoe."

"Could someone let Data know that?"

The doctor grinned at me, "I have a senior staff meeting in an hour; I'll let him know."

"Could you also apologize to the captain again for me? I mean, I know it's no secret I was less than thrilled about living on his ship, and all, but I typically prefer wit and cunning to… um… yeah."

She laughed. "He's really not angry, Zoe. I promise."

"If you say so." But my mother was giving me her concerned look, and my throat was starting to ache again. I let Ensign Le help me move to the chair, and the three of us left sickbay, even though I grumbled that I was perfectly capable of walking.

"I'm sure you are," my mother agreed, "but how often do you get to have a handsome young man convey you through the corridors."

"There is that," I said. "I should practice my queen wave. How does that work again? 'Screw in the light bulb, clutch the pearls.'"

Even Ensign Le laughed at that, and when he wheeled me into our living quarters, he even sketched a bow and flourish. "Glad to be of service, m' lady," he told me. He handed a tray of sprays and bottles to my mother – it had been stowed on the back of the chair. "Call sickbay if you have questions on dosage or frequency," he reminded.

"Thanks for the lift," I told him, as he left. Then I turned back to my mother, "Can I go back to sleep now? Waving to all my subjects was kind of exhausting."

She walked with me into my bedroom, and left the tray on my nightstand. "Instructions are on your padd," she said. "I think you're old enough to manage your own pain relief, but tell me if you need help."

"I will." I waited a beat. "You don't have to tuck me in, Mom." But I knew she wouldn't leave 'til I was safely under the covers, so I grabbed a t-shirt, and went to the bathroom to change and brush my teeth – my mouth still felt all sour – then came back and got into bed. "Happy now?" I asked her.

She ruffled my hair. "That you're sick? Never. That you're cooperating, absolutely." She rested her hand against my forehead, and I leaned into her cool, maternal touch. "T'vek took very good care of you today," she said.

"He made art for me," I said. "He said I was his muse."

"Wow, you're a queen and a muse in the same day."

"I'm talented that way."

Her smile was a little less watery than it had been. "He loves you."

"Yeah," I said, smiling. "It's mutual. Um…he isn't going to catch my flu is he? We were kind of…there was some kiss-age earlier."

"I'll check with his parents, but he's probably fine."

"Okay."

"Do you need anything?"

"Water?" I asked, and my mother nodded. "My padd, so I can read if I want to?" And she nodded again. "A pony?"

"Zoe…"

I gave her a slight shrug, "Had to try."

She brought the water and the padd, and kissed me on the top of my head. "Go to sleep, monster-child."

"That's 'your majesty, monster-child,'" I corrected.

My mother laughed. "Sleep," she said.

I did as she asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The duet Data and Zoe are playing during her theory lesson is "Invitation to the Dance, Op.65" by Carl Maria von Weber (the German title is "Aufforderung zum Tanze"). It HAS been arranged as a violin/cello duet, but the most common versions are for a full orchestra. There's a recording by the New York Philharmonic that is truly amazing. Levodian flu is a canon illness, with the symptoms being much like the common strains of flu most of us are familiar with (we're not talking H1N1 here). Officially, the worst symptoms last about 29 hours, but obviously everyone would react to it slightly differently.


	17. FOMO - Fear of Missing Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having the flu is bad. Having an alien (to you) strain of flu is worse. Company makes everything better.

**Stardate 43930.13**

**(Saturday, 6 December 2366, 12:01 hours, ship's time)**

Levodian flu is one of the most common illnesses in the Federation. Almost every humanoid species has been affected by it at some point or another. It's always annoying, rarely dangerous, and usually runs its course in about a day and a half. Usually.

The first day I was sick wasn't so bad. The virus had snuck up on me: I woke up congested, and started getting sicker a few hours later. Once the fever took hold, though, things went from bad to horrible pretty quickly. And that was before I threw up all over Captain Picard's boots.

I'd spent the rest of my weekend alternately napping and reading. A collection of popular novels from the twentieth or twenty-first century (I could never remember which) – about a boy wizard and his friends – had seen a recent resurgence in popularity, and I had the entire series queued on my padd. With Mom keeping me supplied with water, tea, and various kinds of brothy soups, and nowhere I was supposed to be, I was happy as the proverbial clam. Except for the headache, body aches, fever, occasional nausea, and inability to breathe easily. You know, the little things.

By noon on Tuesday, even though I still felt mostly horrible, I was getting restless. My friends weren't allowed to visit in case _they_ got sick, and I felt bad about missing Data's math tutorial after confessing to him that I'd missed his presence.

"Zoe, are you awake?" my mother came into my room.

"No," I said. "I'm lying here dreaming about surfing the underground seas of Mars."

"You're starting to feel better," she observed. "The snark is returning."

"Sorry, Mom," I said. "I just feel so isolated. What if I get really behind in math? What if T'vek decides Annette is more interesting than I am? What if Data realizes I'm really not worth his tutelage?"

"It's been three days, kiddo. I doubt the boy who called you his muse is likely to defect so quickly. Commander Data counts you among his closest friends, so I'd stop worrying about that as well. As to your classes, I've arranged for your teachers to send your assignments to your padd. You can contact them if you have questions."

I'd actually seen messages come in but hadn't bothered to look at them. "That's all fine with Lit and History and stuff, but I never understand the math just from reading things."

"Try," she said. "Maybe not tonight, but give your schoolwork a couple of hours tomorrow. You'll be given extra time to catch up when you return to class, but you should at least try." She was quiet for a moment, before adding, "I know you're getting antsy, sweetie, but you really _do_ need to rest."

"It's not just that…" I confessed.

"What is it then?" she sat on the end of my bed, apparently sensing an impending Deep Conversation.

"Tev took me to sickbay, and I left a note for Dana not to meet me for school this week, and neither of them have bothered to ask if I'm feeling better."

"When did you become such a worrier?"

"It's not so much worry as a vivid imagination. I keep thinking they might be taking Data to finally see our theme park project, or that they're playing pirates with Josh and Wes, or that…"

She stopped me by tweaking my toe through the covers. "Enough of that," she said. "Zoe, I think you have two illnesses."

"A simple flu isn't enough?"

"The other's a little more metaphysical than physical. It's called FOMO."

"Fomo? What's that?"

My mother grinned at me, and I suddenly realized that my own evil grin was an echo of hers. "F.O.M.O.," she spelled out. "FOMO – Fear of missing out."

If I hadn't been leaning against all of my pillows, I'd have thrown one at her. "That's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be." She seemed to search for words. "It means that you're restless and worried because you're accustomed to being in the thick of things, and now that you're relegated to the sidelines –"

I cut her off, muttering "Sidelines? Try the cheap seats in the spectator section."

"Zoe…"

"Sorry, Mom."

"Now that you're no longer in the center of things, you're afraid you won't be missed or that people are having fun without you." She favored me with a look that showed exactly how confident she was about being right. Then she sighed. "But I didn't come in here to talk about the neurosis of being a teenaged girl."

"And yet…"

"Don't make me rethink that," she countered. "I have a duty shift tonight. It's a split shift – 16:00 to 20:00 hours tonight and then 04:00 to 08:00 tomorrow morning – I'm covering science one on the bridge during shift changes. I can ask for a nurse to stay with you…"

"Could you ask for Ensign Le? I totally wouldn't mind having a babysitter if it was one who looked like that."

"And you were worried about your boyfriend forgetting about you?"

"Not forgetting. I'm so not forgettable. Just… becoming disinterested."

"I think you're sicker than you appear if you truly believe that's even a possibility, daughter-of-mine."

"Seriously, Mom. I have the flu. I think I can survive a few hours alone in my room. I'm too tired to paint the walls black, anyway, and four hours isn't enough time to sneak all my friends over for booze and loud music."

"It's a good thing I know you're teasing, kiddo," my mother said, smiling slightly. "I'll bring you some soup before I go. Think you can manage something more substantial than broth?"

"I vaguely remember what it was like to chew things. Can the replicator make chicken and stars?"

It turned out that it could.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43930.79**

**(Tuesday, 6 December 2366, 17:46 hours, ship's time)**

_"Hey, gorgeous,"_ T'vek greeted me over the comm system in our living room. _"Sorry I've been so scarce. I was afraid if we talked you wouldn't sleep, and Dr. Crusher seemed pretty adamant that you really rest. How are you?"_

"Well," I said, not wanting to complain too much, "today I experienced the joy of food that actually requires chewing, so there's that."

_"Who knew solid food could be so exciting,"_ he teased. _"I miss you, Zo'. Class is boring without you. Wes is first to answer in every subject, and Josh is actually being nice to more than just Dana."_

"Josh isn't that bad," I said. "I mean, he's kind of an ass sometimes, but he has a heart. Somewhere. Possibly locked in a chest under his bed. Is it true Ambassador Sarek is coming aboard?"

_"He's supposed to arrive on Thursday morning. Commander Data already warned us that we might not have class on Friday. Mother said she's hoping to spend a few minutes with the Ambassador."_

"She _knows_ him?"

T'vek grinned at me over the video feed. _"Actually, she's a distant, distant, many times removed niece or cousin or something… but to Vulcans one drop of blood from the right line means you're family."_

"Wow, Tev. That's awesome."

_"Yeah, it is."_ He looked wistful for a moment. _"There's a reception for the Ambassador on Thursday evening. Data's quartet is playing a concert."_

"I'm sure it'll be lovely," I said. I didn't ask who the cellist would be. Even if I hadn't been sick, I'd barely rehearsed with the group.

_"Maybe they'll let you attend, if you're feeling better,"_ he suggested.

"Sure. Maybe." I yawned at him, and then blushed. "Sorry, I'm still really sleepy. It's kind of ironic…my mother's on duty, and any other time I wouldn't waste a minute asking you to come over, but I'm pretty sure I'm not up to it."

His expression changed from a wistful smile to a decidedly wicked grin. _"How long is her shift?"_

"She's on until 20:00 hours," I said, "but Tev, I really am pretty tired, and as much as I'd love for you to come over, I don't want you to catch this flu."

His expression didn't waver. _"If I didn't get from kissing you on Saturday, I'm not going to get it from_ ** _not_** _kissing you tonight."_

"You want to come over and _not_ kiss me?" I asked, confused.

_"Five minutes,"_ he said. _"I'll be there in five minutes."_ And he cut the signal.

It was actually more like ten minutes later when the door-chime sounded, which is good, because it took nine of those minutes for me to wash my face, brush my teeth, twist my hair into a messy bun, and put on fresh pajamas. "Come in!"

"Hey," he said, sitting next to me on the couch. "C'mere." He didn't kiss me, but he did pull me close and just hold me. "I ran into Data on the way down here," he said. "'s why I took longer than I planned. He'll be here in half an hour to ensure that I don't prevent you from your rest."

"Thirty minutes?" I said, in my most seductive voice. "Time for a quickie." Seductive voices are way more effective when you're not wearing pajamas decorated with rainbow-colored tribbles.

"Zoe!"

"Sorry," I said. "I can't be held responsible for anything I say tonight. I'm running a fever and am probably delirious."

"If you weren't sick, I'd have taken you up on the offer," he confessed softly.

"If I wasn't sick, I wouldn't tease you that way," I admitted, adding, "It's not that I don't want to…I'm just..."

"Shh," he said, putting a finger to my lips, "I know." He glanced around the living room. "I thought I'd find empty popcorn bowls and plates of cookie crumbs, but you're really not spending days watching bad vids and snacking on junk food, are you?"

I shook my head, then winced when it hurt. I was due for a dose of pain medicine, but didn't want to leave T'vek's presence to fetch it. "Mostly," I said, forcing a steady tone. "I've been either sleeping or reading."

His expression softened. "I really shouldn't have come, should I?"

I nestled myself more firmly against him. "Don't say that. I'm glad you're here, I just wish I had more energy. All I can do is sit here like a lump."

"You're not a lump. But even you were, you'd be a pretty awesome lump." He grinned. "Did you hear about Wes and Annette?"

"Gossip? You have gossip and you've waited this long to tell me? What happened? Didn't she like the earrings he got her for her birthday? Did they finally make out?"

"Actually, she's kinda pissed at him right now. Apparently, our Wesley managed to accidentally agree to a date with Ensign DuMont."

"You don't mean Susan DuMont?" I asked. "I've run into her in the Pilates studio a couple of times. She's flexible in ways most humanoids never dream of."

"That's the one."

"How do you accidentally get a date with the human pretzel?"

"Well," T'vek said, "the way I heard it is that Wes and Josh were playing handball in the gym…"

"Wait, Wes plays handball? I didn't think he ever did anything that required, you know, exercise or exertion."

"He and Josh play every so often when one of their parents gets on their case. So, they were in the gym and Josh bet Wesley a week of Lit assignments that Susan wouldn't even talk to him."

"But Susan overheard the conversation?"

"Better. Her roommate did, and told Susan, who asked Wes out in front of Josh, just to get a rise out of him."

I snorted. "I'm betting there was a lot more 'rising' than she expected."

"So, Wes said yes, partly because he really thinks she'd go for him, but mostly because he couldn't back down in front of Josh."

"You know, Susan's gonna crush him."

"Oh, I know. I just wish I could be there to see it."

I started to laugh, but then I stopped myself. "We shouldn't be laughing at this."

"Why not? You agree Wes is pompous and annoying."

"Yeah," I said. "He is. He's also a know-it-all with the social skills of a Trenzalorean shepherd dog, but he's also our friend, and so is Annette, and while it is kind of funny, when DuMont cancels or whatever, he's going to feel really stupid."

"Since when do you care so much about Crusher?"

"Since… since that day in Data's quarters when we thought he was dead. He… he was pretty cool even after I yelled at him and Geordi, and, I don't know… I think sometimes he feels just as much out of place as the rest of us do. I wouldn't be surprised if his whole Mr. Starfleet thing is an act he started playing and now can't drop."

T'vek stared at me for a long moment, then he smiled softly. "This, Zoe, is why I love you. You see through all the bullshit."

"Language, Stevek," I teased.

"And you make us all better."

"Oh, god, first I'm a muse, now I'm a mother-confessor? Maybe I should just let the flu win."

"Don't say that," he said. "Don't ever say that. Don't you know how worried I've been? How worried we've all been?"

I ran a hand through his shaggy hair. "I was kidding," I said. "And this is when I remind you that I have no filter and am –"

" – probably delirious," he finished for me. "Sorry."

"'s okay," I said. "So how's Annette through all of this?"

"Apparently, she told Wesley he was welcome to play with his, um, Barbie Doll, and should contact her when he was ready for someone with an actual personality."

"Harsh," I said. "But fair."

"Yeah, except… what's a Barbie Doll?"

I rolled my eyes. "I forget sometimes how much you're not from a human culture," I said. And then I went on to explain how Barbie Dolls had existed for hundreds of years, and even though their design and appropriate-ness for children was constantly being called into question, they remained _the_ most popular doll for little girls on Earth, Mars, Centaurus, and most of the original Terran colonies. "They've also," I added, "become a symbol for the kind of woman who has a gorgeous body, low moral standards, and pretty much no redeeming factors."

T'vek kissed my cheek. "Sometimes, Zoe, I forget how very human _you_ really are." He eased away from me and stood up. "I should go, before our math tutor breaks down the door because I've overstayed my welcome."

"You're always welcome," I said. "I'll walk you to the door." I got off the couch, and did so. Maybe I really _was_ delirious, though, because Data was there when the door slid open. "Night Tev. Love you," I said to my departing guest.

"Love you, too," he said, and blew me a kiss. He nodded politely to Data, and walked off toward the turbo-lift that would take him home.

I was left staring into the face of my - friend? Tutor? I wasn't certain why he was there, or in what role. "Hey, Data," I said, choosing a neutral greeting. "Did you really come just to make sure Tev didn't stay too long?"

"That was not my only motivation for visiting you. I wished to speak with you about the quartet." He hesitated, then asked, "May I come in?"

"What?" My head was starting to really hurt. "Oh, yeah, sure. Sorry." I moved further into the living area giving him room to enter. "Could you give me a minute? I was supposed to take more pain meds more than half an hour ago, and I got distracted when T'vek was here, and my head feels like it's gonna explode. Or implode. Or whatever heads do when they're hurting a lot."

He stared at me as if he was trying to gauge exactly how much of my statement was teenage melodrama and how much was slightly delirious truth. "Perhaps you should sit down on the couch and allow me to retrieve your medication. Is the pain always as bad as you have described?"

"No. But this is the first time I've let the meds completely wear off. Um…there's a blue bottle, on the nightstand in my room." I tried to think of anything I didn't want him to see, and remembered that I'd left my bra hanging on the back of my chair. "Actually, I think I can go get it."

His eyebrows crinkled together the way they always did when he was dubious about something. "Are you certain?" he asked.

"Yeah." I brushed by him into my room, found the bottle, and took the pill, which was supposed to work within a minute or two. I also grabbed a sweatshirt to put on over my pajama top, a comfortably worn, faded-blue pullover with **Surf Mars** stenciled over a stylized wave crest. Returning to the main room, I found him studying the framed photo-collage that hung on the wall above the couch. "It's mostly family stuff," I informed him. "The photos, I mean."

"I had surmised as much," he said, turning to face me. "Are you feeling better?"

"It takes a minute or so to kick in. Do you mind if we sit? I get a little loopy when the pain wears off, and I'm supposed to be resting." I curled up in my usual corner of the couch, and watched him sit rather primly on the opposite end. "So," I said. "Why _are_ you here?"

"The quartet is playing for Ambassador Sarek on Thursday evening," Data told me.

"Tev said as much."

"I wished to explain personally why we cannot ask you to play with us at this particular concert."

"Is there a reason other than I've barely rehearsed with you, and I'm sick?"

"No." But he was studying my face. "I anticipated that you would be displeased. Are you not?"

I shrugged. "It is what it is. Even if I was perfectly healthy, you can't have an unrehearsed ensemble play a formal concert. I grew up in the music biz, remember? I get this stuff. I've seen it with my father."

"When you are well, we would like you to resume rehearsing with us."

"I'd like that," I said. "The concert Thursday… if Doctor Crusher says it's okay, could I… come?"

"Of course," he said, but then he added, "but make sure your mother also approves."

"Of course," I said, echoing his tone, but capping it with a grin. There was a sort of internal pop inside my head, as the meds kicked in and the pain was finally gone and I could breathe again. That was followed by a wave of exhaustion, and I had to lean back and close my eyes for a moment. When I spoke, my voice felt – and sounded – really young and small. "I'm sorry Data, I think I've used up all my energy today. Not being rude on purpose."

"It is 18:30 hours. Your mother is on duty until 20:00. If you need her, I can arrange to – "

"No. I – there's nothing she can do except look at me and worry." I managed a rueful expression. "I told her I could handle being alone. Think I overestimated things. I mean, I'm fine… I just feel… weird."

"I will stay until your mother returns from her duty shift."

"Also weird," I muttered mostly to myself, but I couldn't entirely ignore his questioning glance. "But good weird," I amended. "Just don't expect me to do homework for your class, because thinking is so not happening."

"You are excused from classwork until you are well, Zoe. Did your mother not inform you of that?"

"I was teasing."

"Ah."

"Do you mind if I go back to bed? I mean, you can stay until my mother gets home if you think you should, or if you want to or…whatever…but…"

"I do not mind. Your mother was correct that you should not be alone, and I would not be a good friend if I left you."

He was so earnest it almost made me laugh. "Okay." I got up off the couch, and went back to my room, taking a moment to stuff my bra back into a drawer before I crawled back into bed. Once bundled into my covers, I called out, "Hey, Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"Thank you."

"You are welcome," he said matter-of-factly, and then he added, with just a hint of authority in his tone. "Go to sleep." As I drifted off I thought I heard him add one more thing, very softly, and sounding a little odd coming from his mouth, "You will be o-kay."

**(=A=)**

If my mother was surprised to find her department head sitting on her living room couch when she came off duty, I never heard about it. What I _did_ hear, because I was awake, and straining to hear, was a soft conversation:

"Commander, I hope Zoe didn't cajole you into staying with her," my mother said.

"She did not. I was en route here to explain why the quartet was playing without her, and saw that it was inadvisable to leave her alone. I believe she delayed taking necessary medication while her friend was visiting."

"Which friend?"

"The Mairaj boy."

"She knew she wasn't supposed to have people over. If he catches her flu…"

"I do not believe that will happen. I encountered the boy on my way here, and informed him I would be checking in after thirty minutes. He was preparing to leave when I arrived."

"But still…"

"Lieutenant Commander Harris," he began, in the tone he used when one of my classmates or me – mostly me – was trying even android patience, and then, because he did know when he was speaking as an officer and when he was just a person, " _Emily,_ I have interacted with your daughter extensively over the past several months." He was getting better about vague-ing up specific measures of time when speaking casually. "I do not believe anything untoward happened with T'vek. I have observed that humans who are ill often benefit as much from a bit of company as they do from medical care."

"You seem to know my daughter pretty well, Data."

"She is my friend," he said simply.

"You care about her," my mother said, in a tone I recognized as being very like my own not-a-question tone.

Data had the good grace not to argue.

When my mother spoke again, it was in her resigned tone. "I need to wake Zoe for dinner. Would you like to join us? I'm sure it would benefit her."

"I would be pleased to," he said.

**(=A=)** ****

We sat down for dinner at about nine pm – later than usual, but my routine was so off it really didn't matter. I was a little nervous about Data and my mother sharing a meal. What if they talked shop? What if she started hanging out with him on her own? What if he preferred my mother's friendship to mine? Was it possible to experience FOMO when you were sitting at the same table with people?

I needn't have worried. Probably in deference to my illness, the conversation was kept fairly light. They talked a bit about the Legaran culture – apparently the whole reason Ambassador Sarek was coming aboard was to negotiate their membership in the Federation, or some such, and made sure to include me.

When I asked questions, Data deferred to my mother more often than not, but I got the sense he was appraising both of us – my questions and her answers. When my eyes started to glaze over, it was Data, not my mother, who deftly shifted the topic to music, asking if I had attempted the passage I'd been struggling with, since our lesson.

"I haven't had the energy to play," I said, and then, because the notion only just struck me. "Why are we working on a duet? Are we going to actually play it together at some point?"

"Yes," was Data's simple answer. "When we are ready," he continued, "I will schedule a recital."

"'We,'" I questioned him. "Don't you mean me?"

"I do not," he said. "Your observation that my stylistic choices were not serving the piece adequately was valid. Preparing the piece for performance will require a true collaboration."

"Why do I get the feeling that you think I'm better than I do?"

"You are familiar with the human axiom 'we are all our own worst critic'?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Can you accept, then, that where your own talent and skill are concerned, you may not be…objective?"

"Oh," I said. "Point taken."

Soon after that, I started to fade again. Data excused himself, thanking my mother for including him in our meal. To me, he said, "I have other obligations that will prevent me from visiting you tomorrow. However, if you are feeling 'up to it,' you are welcome to attend the concert on Thursday as my guest." He glanced back at my mother. "I will provide escort to and from the venue, if you wish."

"If Zoe is up to it," my mother agreed, "I'm sure she'd love it."

I didn't want anything to happen that would change her mind. "That's fantastic," I said. "Thanks, Mom. G'night, Data." And I retreated to my room.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43935.28**

**(Thursday, 8 December 2366, 09:05 hours, ship's time)**

I don't know if she had someone come sit with me during her four-hour morning shift, or not, but I woke up Wednesday morning with only a slight temperature and almost no aches or pains. By Thursday morning, I felt practically normal, and I yelled for my mother before leaving bed.

"What is it?" my mother asked, running into my room.

I favored her with a huge grin. "I think my fever finally broke."

Her cool hand caressed my forehead. "I'll arrange for the doctor to see you this afternoon," she said.

"So, I can go to the concert?"

"If Doctor Crusher says you may, then you may."

"Awesome," I said. And then, because it was the most crucial thing I could think of, "What do I wear?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The concert in question is the one in "Sarek," during which Mark Lenard's performance is totally worth watching, and Brent Spiner's faux violin playing is, quite possibly, the worst fake-playing ever seen on film. (Though I tend to be hyper-critical about those things.) For some of the best on-screen depictions of musicianship, go rent the movie QUARTET with Helen Mirren and Billy Connolly. It's fantastic. End of pitch.


	18. Stormy Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe spends a week recovering from the Levodian flu, goes to a concert, meets a Federation icon, and deals with jealousy.

**Stardate 43936.50**

**(Thursday, 8 December 2366, 19:47 hours, ship's time)**

In the end, I wore basic black to the concert in honor of Ambassador Sarek, nothing terribly fancy, just a fairly simple dress and matching heels and really subtle jewelry – a fine gold chain I'd been given the previous Christmas, and matching drop earrings. I still felt a bit shaky, and more than a little bit nervous about not having anyone to talk to, but Data arranged for me to sit with Geordi, who asked after my health in that totally easy-going way he did almost everything.

"I'm better," I told him. "Not a hundred per cent, but better."

He grinned. "Glad to hear it. Data was worried about you. We all were."

I chose not to question him about whether or not Data _could_ worry. Instead I focused on the other part of his statement. "Um, exactly who does 'we all' include?"

"Me, Wes, Commander Riker, Captain Picard – did you really throw up on his boots?"

I blushed. "I did." I said. "I really did. But I swear I didn't mean to."

He was laughing when he said, "Oh, I'm sure you didn't."

"The captain was surprisingly cool about it. At least, he didn't yell. He actually apologized to _me_ for being in the way."

"Yeah," Geordi said. "That sounds like him. Completely gracious unless forced to be otherwise."

"Is that why he has such a great reputation as a diplomat, himself?"

"You seem pretty well-informed for a girl who, I'm told, has no real interest in Starfleet."

"I have no interest in applying to the academy," I corrected him. Unlike nearly everyone else I knew, I didn't give that word an audible capital. "And anyone who knows me would agree I'm not a uniforms-and-orders kind of girl. That doesn't mean I don't respect what you all – you, Data, my mother, Captain Picard – what you all do."

"That's fair," he agreed. "So, why study up on the captain's diplomatic expertise."

"Would you believe I'm planning a career in espionage?" I teased.

"I might," he teased back. "But really…?"

I shrugged. "Starfleet may not hold much interest for me, but history and politics do. Especially the politics. It's theater on a universal scale, and while there are people who have a script in mind, the reality is that when you factor in free will anything can happen. It's…it's improvisational theater, except every single person is both a player and spectator."

His laughter morphed into something else. "Do you talk about this stuff with your friends?"

"Sometimes," I said. "With T'vek I do."

"With Data?"

I could feel my eyes widening. "With Data? No. We pretty much exclusively talk about music."

"You should share your other interests with him."

I gave Geordi a confused look. "Um, why?"

"Trust me, Zoe. You just should."

I opened my mouth to ask more questions, but the musicians walked in, then. Data came in last, and caught my eye for a moment before addressing himself to Sarek's wife, Perrin. The music was good, but there was a lack of cohesion among the players that kept me from losing myself in the harmonies. As far as I can tell, no one else seemed to notice.

The quartet didn't actually play a full suite. Rather, they played selections from several works that had been composed for a string ensemble. About forty-five minutes into the program, there was a brief intermission, during which Geordi left our seats for a moment. When he returned, Data was with him. "Commander LaForge suggested I introduce you to our guests," he said.

"Is that allowed?" I asked. "I mean, I'm just some kid."

"We will debate that terminology at another time," Data said, and I could tell he meant it. "Please accompany me." He didn't give me a choice, so, even though I was feeling a bit shaky, I left my chair and followed him down the steps to the front row of the auditorium, where the Ambassador and his wife were greeting many of the other audience members.

I was expecting him to introduce me as the daughter of one of his colleagues. Instead, he gently inserted himself into the conversation, and, once he had their attention, said, "Ambassador Sarek, Lady Perrin, I would like you to meet Zoe Harris. She is my student in music theory and advanced mathematics, and will be taking over the cello position in our quartet after this concert."

Vulcans, I knew, didn't touch other people as a rule, and I vaguely remembered being shown only formal greetings. Thankfully, Lady Perrin was both human and incredibly perceptive. She made a point of greeting me before her husband did, offering her hand, and, once I'd met it with my own, she whispered, "You only have to be polite." In a normal, surprisingly warm, voice she said, "It's nice to meet you Zoe. I've heard that the educational opportunities on starships are rich and robust."

"Yes, ma'am. We like our school system the way we like our coffee," I quipped automatically, and then covered my mouth with my hand. "I'm so sorry," I said. "Sometimes I have no filter."

I saw her look sharply at her husband, but he seemed unbothered by my comment, and she allowed herself to laugh. "I suppose I did set you up for that. Perhaps I could observe a few classes, if time permits?" She glanced to Data for his approval.

"I would be happy to arrange it," he said.

Sarek turned away from the brief conversation he had been having with the Captain and one of his aides on Perrin's other side, and when he faced me it was like being stared down by some prehistoric, preternatural life-force, at least for a second or two. Then the feeling was gone as suddenly as it had come. "It is gratifying to know that young people still maintain interest in the arts," he said to me, inclining his head.

"Yes, sir," I agreed, matching his sketch of a bow with my own. "It's an honor to meet you."

"The honor is mine," he said, as if by rote, and then something softened in those dark, dark eyes. "My son was a competent pianist in his youth. Even if you find that your career path leads you away from music, you must never give it up entirely. The arts enrich us so."

I'm pretty sure I was not the only person both shocked and perplexed by that exchange, but before I could even answer, the softness and warmth had vanished, Data had met Geordi's eyes over my head, and Geordi was quietly escorting me back to our seats. "Did I do something wrong?" I asked the engineer as the lights flashed, signaling the end of intermission.

"I don't think that was you," he said. "I think there's something else going on."

Somehow, his words felt ominous. Even so, I heard Data ask Lady Perrin if there was a violinist whose style she preferred, and when he returned to the stage, my attention was absorbed by the music. His solo, at least, was technically flawless. He met my eyes while he was playing, and held them during one of the legato passages he'd played for me during one of our Saturday sessions.

There was supposed to be a short reception after the concert, but Ambassador Sarek and Lady Perrin excused themselves early, claiming fatigue – I think when you get to be two hundred years old, people are required to just accept it when you say you're tired – so the after-gathering was moved to Ten-Forward. Data invited me to join him at the party, but as I'd been feeling less-than-stellar at the start of the evening, and was beginning to feel woozy, I asked if he'd mind taking me home instead.

"Not that I don't love your company," I added, since bailing on him felt a bit rude. "Any other night, I'd give my eye teeth to hang out with the movers and shakers," I teased. I glanced sidelong at him, and teased, "I'm kind of a lousy date, but I really do appreciate that you went out of your way so I could be here."

"I am sorry that you are feeling unwell. Please wait one moment while I inform the captain that I will be late to the party." He said the last four words with no sense of irony whatsoever. "I will be back to escort you home."

I took a seat in the front row, waiting as he asked. It felt like forever, but in reality he returned in less than a minute. "I feel bad for pulling you away from the party," I said. "It's your night."

Data made the same face he did in math class when I was balking at solving a problem he knew I understood, the look that meant any argument I made would be futile. "We agreed that I would escort you to and from this event."

"No, you and my mother agreed to that," I snapped, and was immediately contrite when I saw shock flicker across his face. At least, it looked like shock. "I'm sorry," I said immediately. "I didn't mean – I must be more tired than I thought."

"Indeed," he said in a tone that almost made it seem like my rudeness had stung him, a little. "Perhaps we should be on our way."

I nodded, but it didn't seem enough, so I echoed Data's words back to him. "Perhaps we should."

The walk back to my quarters was made in silence, and when the door opened, he didn't even step inside to make sure my mother was home to meet me. I hadn't been that rude, really, but I wasn't typically anything but polite with him, and he'd _certainly_ never been anything but kind to me. Before the door slid shut behind me, I turned around. "Data, wait."

"Zoe?" He made my name into something weighted with expectation.

"I'm really sorry I snapped at you. I'm still mastering that whole think-before-you-speak thing. It was… it was really nice of you to arrange for me to come to the concert, and I really liked what you did with your solo. Thank you… for everything."

It wasn't typical for him to take time to process simple statements, but in this case, he seemed to be choosing his own response very carefully. "You are welcome, Zoe," he began, but he must've noticed the dual hints of disappointment and hopefulness on my face, because he added, "I am gratified that you enjoyed the performance. I believe, however, that it is my obligation, now, to advise you to 'get some rest.' I will not expect to see you in class in the morning, but I would not wish you to miss your theory tutorial. Our duet still needs work, and it is not the sort of homework you can 'catch up on' at home."

"No," I agreed, favoring him with a soft smile. "It's really not. Goodnight, Data."

"Goodnight, Zoe."

As he turned away, I saw something else flicker across his face – concern, maybe? Or confusion. He was probably trying to figure out why my mood had been so erratic. I know I was.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43936.86**

**(Thursday, 8 December 2366, 22:53 hours, ship's time)**

After Data left, I went to my room to change into pajamas, and then I returned to the living room to get a cup of tea. My mother had left a note on the comm-system: she'd be off duty at midnight.

There were other comm messages, as well, from Dana, Josh, and even Wesley. T'vek, not to be outdone, had left three separate messages, but I wasn't sure I had the energy to listen to all of them. I started with the messages from the boys, which turned out to be short, sweet notes telling me they were sorry for not calling sooner, and were glad that I was feeling better. Wes's message also had a post-script offering me help catching up in math or chemistry, if I needed it.

I listened to the first message from Tev, but he sounded odd on the recording, and the video made him look broody and angry, and it creeped me out a little. Dana, I actually called back, because I hadn't talked to my best friend since the weekend. "Hey, stranger," I greeted her smiling face. "Miss me?"

_"Oh, Zoe, you have no idea. I'd forgotten what it was like to be the only girl in Data's math class. Josh was nice for the first day, and then he started getting weird, and T'vek and Wes have been really…surly."_

"Surly?" I asked, both amused and delighted by the word. "Really? 'Surly?'" Dana's mother was a writer, and my friend had picked up her mother's eclectic vocabulary. It was one of the reasons we got along so well.

_"It's an appropriate description,"_ she said. _"T'vek actually came to class wearing black sun-glasses like the ones you have."_

I rolled my eyes, "They probably _are_ the ones I have. I haven't been able to find them since we got back from Serenity Five. I thought I'd left them there."

_"He stole them?"_ she was justifiably shocked by the idea.

"No, I probably just left them somewhere and he picked them up." He'd done so before, with books, my padd, a sweatshirt. He often teased me that I should never become a fugitive because my trail of left-behind belongings would lead the cops right to me.

_"Oh. Yeah. That makes sense."_ There was a pause, and her tone softened, _"So, how are you, Zoe? Really?"_

"Better," I said, just as I had to Commander LaForge earlier that night. "Still kind of 'off,' but no more fever, and my head is mostly clear. I get tired pretty easily though."

_"Will you be in class tomorrow?"_

I shook my head. "Not 'til Monday. I only got to attend the concert tonight because Wes's mom said I could, and because all I had to do was sit there, and be quiet." I didn't tell her about meeting the ambassador and his wife. "I even skipped the after-party, because I was feeling a little spinny."

_"I didn't think T'vek had been invited to that concert,"_ Dana said.

"He wasn't. Data came over to explain, in person, why I couldn't be part of the quartet, and I asked him if I could at least come listen. He invited me to go as his guest, and Mom agreed that he could escort me to and from. He was really nice about it actually. He even made sure I had someone I knew sitting next to me."

_"Oh, that's really sweet."_

"Yeah," I agreed, smiling mostly to myself. "It kind of was. Except I ruined it by snapping it him."

_"You didn't!"_

"Oh, no, I did. It was so weird, like I had no control over my tongue. Suddenly I was just really annoyed with him, but then, as soon as I said and I saw his face, all I wanted to do was make him smile."

_"Data doesn't smile, Zoe."_

"Yes, he does. Not often, and not, you know, big smiles. But I've seen him, sometimes when we're playing music together, or this one time when we were –." I stopped short. I'd been about to tell my friend that Data had smiled when he and I were having tea, but for some reason, I didn't really want to share that information. I wanted that experience just for me. "Anyway, he does smile, and it's very sweet, when it happens."

Her frown was a mixture of sympathy and confusion. _"Okay, if you say so, Zoe. Look the annoyance-thing? It's probably just that you're still not feeling perfectly well,"_ she said. _"Was he angry? Oh, wait, it's Commander Data, of course he wasn't."_

"You underestimate him," I said softly. "I think he feels more than he admits to, but that's a whole other topic, and not one for comm." I faked a yawn, which led to a second, real one. "I should go," I said. "I was tired before I got home. If you have time, stop by after classes tomorrow? Bring Annette if you want."

She smiled at me. _"I like that plan. See you tomorrow, Zoe. Feel better."_

I really wanted to crawl into bed and go right to sleep after I finished chatting with Dana, but I needed to at least respond to T'vek. I sent a text message: _Got your messages. Super tired. Going to bed. Talk tomorrow? Love Zoe._

I'd already changed, so I recycled my empty mug, and want to wash my face and brush my teeth. It wasn't quite midnight, but I went to bed anyway, and as far as I know I was asleep before Mom got home.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43937.59**

**(Friday, 9 December 2366, 05:19 hours, ship's time)**

Early – very early - Friday morning, I woke to the sound of our door-chime being activated over and over. My mother, as she often did on the mornings after a late shift, had apparently enabled soundproofing in her bedroom, so I got up and padded to the door, forgetting that I was only wearing a baggy t-shirt and underwear. "Who is it?" I called in a less-than-cheery voice.

"T'vek. Zoe, please let me in."

I asked the computer for the time and learned it was just past five. "Geez, Tev, what are you doing here this early?" I asked him through the still closed door.

"I couldn't sleep. Please, Zoe, I have to see you!"

I'd never seen T'vek act in such a fashion, and I wondered if his odd behavior was related to the surliness Dana had described. I thought about sending him away – I was _not_ in any mood for company – but I was afraid he'd make a scene. "Fine, enter, but keep it quiet because Mom's still sleeping." I squinched my eyes shut. "And so am I, I think."

My boyfriend walked into the room with a swagger that would have been seriously impressive any other time. "You didn't return my calls last night."

"It was late and I was tired," I said. "Still sick, remember?" Boys could be incredibly dense sometimes. "I sent you a note."

"You weren't too sick to go out with Commander Data. You're never too busy when he beckons. I know," he said, "that you spent the night with him last week." He was loud enough that even with soundproofing I was worried my mother would hear.

"Come with me," I said, dragging him to my bedroom. I knew it was a bad idea, but it was better than waking my mom. I waited for the door to close then sat on my bed. I'd read somewhere that you were supposed to stay standing if you wanted to give the illusion of power, but there's something to be said for being comfortable and non-threatening, as well. "I don't know what is wrong with you, Stevek Mairaj," I said, using his full name, "but this new jealousy thing you're doing is really unattractive."

"I'm only jealous because you give me reason to be."

"When? When have I given you reason? When Geordi and Wes called me to go to Data's quarters, I asked if you wanted to come."

"But you spent the night with – "

"First of all, the very notion of that is absurd, Tev. I was with Data for three or four hours that night, that's all. We drank tea and talked about music and art, and then we played darts. My mother even came to meet me in his quarters. And even if I was interested in Data in any way other than as a friend and fellow musician - which I'm not – do you honestly think he'd return the feelings? You know, with those emotions he keeps telling everyone he doesn't have? I'm fifteen years old, T'vek. He's an officer." I hesitated then added, "Try using the head on top of your shoulders instead of the one between your legs for a moment."

T'vek stood in front of me, his jaw working, his fingers curling into tight fists and then uncurling again. His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them, and when I looked into them, just for a moment, I felt that same old power that I'd felt when meeting Ambassador Sarek the night before. "But you went to the concert with him," he said softly.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I did. As his student. And for the record, I sat with Commander LaForge, barely talked to Data all night, and said no when he invited me to attend the after-party, not that it's any of your business." I wanted to remind him that we'd been making out pretty intensely on this very bed not that long ago. I wanted to remind him (again) that I'd sent him a note. I did neither of those things. Gran had once told me that when you're trying to make a deal, the person who speaks first is the loser. We were dealing for the future of our relationship, and I had no intention of losing. Instead, I channeled her patience, shut my mouth, and waited.

The silence stretched between us like wire, growing tauter and tauter. I closed my eyes for what seemed like fifteen minutes but was probably more like one.

Finally, T'vek spoke. "I'm an ass," he said.

"Sometimes, yeah, you are," I agreed, in as light a tone as I was capable of using.

"I just missed you. I've missed you all week. And when I tried to visit the other night, and I ran into him…"

"Data was on his way here to tell me personally why I couldn't play with the quartet. He gave us half an hour because he suspected I would benefit from your company. I skipped a dose of pain meds while you were here, and by the time he came back my head was throbbing, and I felt like the room was spinning. He only even let me go to the concert as a guest as some kind of consolation prize. It wasn't like it was a date."  

Something seemed to pass out of him, at that point. His body relaxed into his more familiar posture and his eyes softened into the dark-but-somehow-glowing color they usually were. "Can I sit?" he asked.

"Sure." I rearranged myself on my bed so I was seated cross-legged, leaning against my pillows, but under the covers. He sat at the foot end of my bed, on top of the covers, his back against the bulkhead wall. "There's really nothing to be jealous of," I said gently.

"Yeah," he said. "I know that. I don't know what's wrong with me. I woke up this morning feeling so angry at you and I didn't know why."

"Does this have anything to do with wearing sunglasses in class the other day?"

"Maybe?" he said. "I'm not sure why I did that either. It seemed like a good idea…"

"Why didn't you tell me you had my sunglasses, anyway?"

His cheeks colored. "I liked that I had something that belongs to you," he admitted.

I laughed softly. "Tev, don't you know? You already have my heart."

"You mean it?"

"You _know_ I do," I said.

"Well… good…. Yeah, that's good.  because my parents said I could go with you to your father's wedding." He smiled, then, the wonderful roguish smile I loved so much. "Only two weeks 'til we leave."

"Yeah," I said. "So, how about we try to go that long without fighting?" I added, "I should warn you now, though, Data wants me to keep working on a duet with him. He suggested playing a recital. He'll probably have to coordinate with Seth, but, it will mean extra practice." I waited for an outburst, or even a comment; when I got none, I said, "You could probably come listen to us practice sometimes, if you wanted."

"I probably won't," he said. "I mean, I love you, and I love that music gets you so juiced, but…I think watching you practice would be… distracting."

I smiled. "Distracting, hmm? In a good way?"

"Oh, yes. In a very good way."

"Hold that thought," I said. "I kind of like it, and I kind of love _you_ , but I'm still not completely well, and I really need to rest today, and most of the weekend, so you need to scoot before my mother knows you're here and I need to go to sleep. Come to dinner, maybe, on Saturday night?"

"Deal," he said. He slid off the end of my bed, and came to where I was propped up. "I love you, too, Zoe. I'm never too much of an ass to realize how awesome you are."

"Well," I teased. "Rarely."

"Zoe…"

"Hmm?" I was all innocence.

He leaned over me and kissed me, lingering just long enough to show me how much he meant it. "See you Saturday." He slipped out of my room and out of our quarters, which auto-locked behind him. I've always thought my mother must have known he'd come, but she never said anything, and I never asked.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43939.14**

**(Friday, 9 December 2366, 18:56 hours, ship's time)**

I spent the rest of the morning napping, then spent the afternoon with Dana and Annette. Annette explained that she and Wes had talked out their issues, and then, blushing, she confessed, "He's a really good kisser."

Dana and I exchanged looks with each other. "That's nice to know, I guess," Dana said.

"No offense, Annette," I added, "but the thought of kissing Wesley, is sort of like thinking about kissing my brother. You know, if I had one."

She laughed. "That's fine with me. I'm just glad we're moving forward." She added, "He said there'd been weird issues cropping up all over the ship – he got in a fight with Commander LaForge the other day, and his mother slapped him last night."

"I kind of snipped at Data yesterday," I confessed. "And then T'vek came over at oh-dark-thirty this morning all stormy and jealous. I talked him down, but for a few minutes it was kind of scary."

"Scary? Or sexy?" Dana teased.

"Yes," I answered, and then we moved on to other subjects.

After my friends had gone, I went back to bed to read some more, and then I actually looked at my homework from the week. I knew I had extra time, but I also knew the longer I waited to start, the less likely I'd be to actually complete it all before the holidays. Lit, history, and chemistry weren't so bad. Biology was easy, and so was English Composition and Comprehension (which really wasn't English, it was Federation Standard, but since Standard was based on English, the name had stuck), but then I got to the homework for Data's class, and looking at it, I wondered if maybe _he_ _had_ been affected by whatever moodiness was going around.

I checked with my mother to make sure it was okay, and then contacted my tutor via text message, requesting that he comm me when he had a free moment.

His response came in less than half an hour. _"Zoe,"_ he greeted. _"How are you feeling?"_

I was pretty sure the question was out of politeness rather than actual interest, but I answered anyway. "Almost normal," I said. "Well, normal for me."

_"That is good to hear,"_ he replied, and then asked, _"How may I help you?"_

"Are we still scheduled for theory tomorrow?"

_"If you are well enough; are you?"_

"I will be. I was wondering if we could maybe alter the schedule a little bit?"

_"In what way?"_

"I was looking at the assignments from your class," I said. "I understand this stuff when you explain it, but when I read it from the text it doesn't make sense. Would you mind walking me through it? If it's not too much of an imposition?"

_"It is no imposition,"_ he confirmed. _"I will see you at ten hundred hours."_

"One more thing?" I began. "Could we maybe meet here, this time? Mom doesn't think I'm really well enough to go traipsing around the ship."

"That would be acceptable."

"Thanks, Data. You're stellar."

_"You are welcome, Zoe. Data out."_

That accomplished, I returned to my bed again, bringing my padd with me, so I could start working on the composition we'd been asked to write. I was still working when my mother came home from her duty shift. "Hey, kiddo."

"Hey, mom."

"You look like you're feeling pretty well today."

"Yeah," I said. "I am. How 'bout if I order dinner tonight, since you took care of me all week?"

"Nope," she said. "Tonight's still my turn. Unless there's another reason for a sudden burst of helpfulness?"

"Well," I said. "I kind of invited T'vek to join us tomorrow, and I wanted to make sure you were cool with it."

She sat on my bed, and ruffled my already-messy hair. "I am," she said. "Completely cool with it."

"Super," I said, and smiled.

"Dinner in twenty minutes," she told me, getting up. "Any requests?"

"Lobster tails drenched in butter, a Caesar salad, and a baked potato with sour cream and chives?" I suggested.

"Replace the lobster tails with grilled salmon and you have a deal," she said, grinning.

"Oh…if you insist."

She was humming softly when she left my room, and the good mood lasted until I went to bed.

I knew my flu had nothing to do with everyone's moodiness, but it seemed like when I got better, all the interpersonal storm clouds cleared up, as well. Of course, it might also have been that the negotiations with the Legarans had been making all the officers tense, so when they were completed successfully, and Ambassador Sarek and Lady Perrin had gone home, everyone could finally relax.

I shrugged to myself as I thought of all that, then decided the best thing to do was to read some more about wizards and magic and stuff until I fell asleep. As I drifted off, I idly wondered if I could convince the computer to respond to words like _lumnos_ and _nox_ in order to turn the lights in my room on and off. I'd have to ask Data about that. His reaction would be priceless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's true, Zoe's reading the Harry Potter series. No, that doesn't have anything to do with the rest of the story, it just seems like a series she and her friends would enjoy. Literature didn't end with Shakespeare or Dickens, after all. I have no idea what, if any, language Federation Standard actually is. For my purposes it's a more unified hybrid of British and American English. But I suppose there's every possibility it's an engineered language like Esperanto. Oh, and yes, this is during the actual "Sarek" episode, but I took a few liberties with the length of the concert.


	19. Light Up the Sky, Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe's no longer sick, but now she's involved in a week of intense rehearsals and semester finals, as well as stewing over "decisions of the possibly epic kind." Will Data be a supportive listener? Will Tev be an understanding boyfriend?

**Stardate 43946.15**

**(Monday, 12 December 2366, 08:17 hours, ship's time)**

On the Monday I would be returning to classes, I woke up feeling like my usual snarky self for what felt like the first time in eons. I wasn't even close to catching up on all the schoolwork I'd missed, but my teachers had all extended my due-dates on essays, Josh, Dana, and Tev had given me their notes for everything else, and Data and I had spent most of the weekend alternating math and music so that I'd be caught up when I returned to his class, and so we'd both be ready for a concert (he'd ceased calling it a recital) with the quartet before I left for Centaurus.

I was a little bit nervous about getting back into the swing of things, but I was finally feeling like I was on the downhill rush to the holidays, so it seemed natural that I was singing as I arranged breakfast for my mother and me. _"Old Mr. Kringle, i _s soon gonna jingle the bells that'll tingle all your troubles away__ ," I sang, not quite belting the ancient tune.

"Do I hear singing?" Mom asked as she shuffled out of her room in the fluffy blue slippers we'd agreed never to actually mention in public. "Can my pale, wan, sickly Zoetrope have finally bowed out in favor of the great Zoificus?"

I stopped singing. "Seriously, Mom, it was only the flu. It wasn't like I was possessed by demons."

"Mm." She came to give me a quick squeeze before sitting down in her normal place at the table. "Clearly you don't remember the devil child that came to visit those last couple of days."

"Clearly," I countered, "I was still delirious. Also, the last couple of days were the weekend, and except for dinner on Saturday, I was pretty much either studying or practicing with Data. You should know. The first day of it was all right here."

"Oh, that was delirium when you whined that the replicator wasn’t doing the right balance of cranberry and orange in your juice?"

"Well, if I wasn't delirious, I was at least greatly overwrought."

"Oh, good word." My mother's wry smile was one of my favorite inheritances.

"A sparse vocabulary has never been one of my flaws," I pointed out. "I replicated quiche," I said, distributing plates and glasses. "With bacon."

"I see that," my mother said. "You're still not getting a pony."

"Oh, a pony has been off the table for a while," I told her, sitting across from her. "Can't I just be in a really good mood? The semester's almost over, the beach is calling me, and Dad said he'd take me to get my license while I'm there with him."

"Ah," my mother said, grinning. She ate a forkful of quiche. "And you want me to approve the notion of my very young, extremely inexperienced daughter getting her own flitter for Christmas?"

"Just an atmospheric one," I said. "Cloud-to-ground, nothing fancy. You know, except for the color."

"Candy apple red?" she guessed.

"Mother, please!" I put my hand on my chest in mock-shock. "No one buys red any more. British racing green, on the other hand…"

"Right," she said. "Classy."

"Mmhm. And then there are the pinstripes."

"You've had this conversation with your father, I take it?"

"It might have come up when he asked me to participate in his wedding."

"You bribed your father?" my mother asked, and I could see amusement making the corners of her mouth curve up a little.

"'Bribe' is such a cold word, Mom," I said, still playing my character. "Harsh, even. I merely informed my father that an incentive might guarantee my good behavior and willing contribution to the success of his nuptial event."

"If your father is willing to foot the bill for a flitter, piloting lessons, and insurance, I won't stop him. After all, it's not like you'll be using it all that often, except on vacations, and it may be useful when you go off to college."

"About that..." I began, in my more usual tone.

"You _are_ going to college," my mother countered.

"Yes, of course, I am," I said. "I meant about vacations. It's true that I'm not that fond of Gia, but, as step-monsters go, there could be worse… I was thinking, maybe, I could stay with Dad for more than just vacations?" I let my tone edge toward a wheedling one.

"Zoe, we had this conversation when your grandmother said she couldn't handle you anymore. You were skipping classes, sneaking out at night, drinking…"

"Once, mom. I got drunk once."

"You were fourteen."

"I was almost fifteen. And it's not like I was sneaking into night clubs. It was at Kavan Meyer's birthday party."

"On the beach, in the middle of the night, during high surf… You all could have been killed. And from what I know of that party you could have ended up pregnant."

"That is _not_ true."

"But you _were_ hot and heave with the Brandon boy."

"Scott," I said. "His name is Scott, and we were just kissing. He wanted more, I wasn't ready, but I was kind of messed up." I had never really told anyone – and especially not my mother – the truth of that party. "Kavan punched him. He was trying to get me to go to the other side of the jetty, and Kavan punched him."

"I didn't know." My mother's voice was low, muted.

"You never asked," I reminded her. "No one ever asked for my side. Not you, not Dad, not even Gran. You all just assumed the worst. You never even asked _why_ I'd been drinking."

"Why were you?"

"Dad…"

"I know he had lovers, Zoe."

"He was fucking my au pair the night before you were supposed to come home. In _your_ bed. In the middle of the afternoon."

"I'd rather you didn't use that word, Zo'."

"'Au pair?'" I asked, my voice all innocence.

"Zoe…"

"Sorry," I said. "Anyway, I don't understand how drinking myself into oblivion then walking into the sea is worse than being stuck here on the _U.S.S. Tedium_."

"Zoe, I know this is your usual brand of snark speaking, but after everything you went through when you thought Data was dead, can you understand how _not_ funny it is when you tell me you'd choose drowning over living here." She set down her fork, rather pointedly. "I thought you'd adjusted. You've made friends, you have T'vek, you've made a real connection with Commander Data..."

Normally, I'd have avoided meeting my mother's eyes. I'd have stared at my plate, or crumpled my napkin, or rolled my eyes. Something in her tone made me look at her. "You're right," I said softly. "Drowning would be way worse… But Mom, honestly, sometimes I feel like I'm drowning _here._ "

She reached across the table and grabbed my hand. "You know, it's not only your behavior on Centaurus that made me want you here. I wanted to be there for this part of your life."

"The terrible teens?" I snarked.

"The transition from girl to woman," she corrected, her expression softening into her gushy mom look. "You're changing, you know, a little bit, every day, and I've already missed so much of your life. I was hoping you'd find something you liked here – there are so many opportunities."

"Other than spending time with you, you mean?" I was teasing, but only a little. "Look, I know I'm not grumping about it all the time, anymore, but…"

"But you think you'd be happier with your father?"

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe? I think I'm more like him than I am like you, I guess. Sometimes I feel like I'm more of a puzzle to you than the ancient alien cultures you're exploring."

She squeezed my hand tighter, then released it. "Sometimes," she said, grinning fondly at me, "you are."

"Hmph."

"You opened the door on that one, kiddo."

"Hmph," I said again, though it was through a grin that time.

"Tell you what," my mother began after a healthy swig of juice. "Fetch me a cup of coffee, and I'll consider – _consider_ – talking with your father and Gia about letting you stay. If they agree, and if, after the holidays, you still want to, I think we can work something out."

I immediately got up to replicate coffee for my mother. "Here," I said, placing the mug in front of her and sitting back down. "There's another catch though, right?"

"What makes you say that?"

I gave her a pointed look. "There's _always_ another catch."

She grinned around the coffee mug. "No more extortion. I'll let the flitter slide; if you stay you'll need it, and if you don't we can probably have it transported to wherever you go to school, but… I don't want to hear about expensive presents, shopping trips, or sightseeing beyond the norm."

I shrugged. "That's fair," I said. "I guess."

She peered at me, taking my measure. "I want you to be happy, Zoe. I don't think your behavior before was the behavior of a happy person."

"Geez mom, it's not like I got seventeen tattoos or had antennae grafted onto my skull or had my tongue pierced – is it true that guys like certain… activities… when their partners have tongue piercings? – and I wasn't exactly turning tricks on the street corners, either. It was a few parties, a few times missing curfew, and I still aced the classes I skipped out on."

"Zoe…"

"There might be one tattoo…"

"Zoe…?"

"It's a really small one, though. Somewhere discreet…" Messing with my mother should _not_ have been so much fun.

"Zoe Lauren Harris…"

I got up before she could finish her sentence. "Sorry, Mom. Gotta dash. My math teacher is incredibly anal about starting class on time. You might know him. Gold guy, average height, rarely uses contractions…"

I'd made her laugh, at least. "Go on, you," she said. "Have a good day. Try not to do anything illegal before dinner."

"Oh," I said too innocently, reverting to the character I'd been playing earlier. "Never _illegal_. A little immoral maybe, but not before lunch. That would be gauche." And I sailed out the door.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43951.88**

**(Wednesday, 14 December 2366, 10:30 hours, ship's time)**

For the first time since I'd been part of the advanced math tutorial, we started class late. First, Data was delayed – he contacted us to let us know – because of some diplomats that had to be greeted and quartered, and then Wes came rushing in with a huge smile on his face.

He was also wearing a proper Starfleet uniform instead of one of the hideous grey things he usually wore, and his collar pip showed that he had a rank of….

"So, are we supposed to salute and call you Ensign Crusher now?" Josh asked, interrupting my observation of our classmate.

Wes blushed, turning almost the same color of his uniform. "Of course not," he said. "I'm still just a student, like you guys… mostly."

"Seriously, Wes, you should only ever wear that," I said. "Congratulations."

"Does this mean you're not going off to the Academy?" T'vek wanted to know.

"Wesley has been granted a field commission," Data explained to us, probably because it was the only way to regain our attention. "He missed his connection on Betazed, because of… extenuating circumstances."

I knew that our resident wunderkind had been instrumental in finding Commander Riker, Counsellor Troi, and her mother the Betazoid ambassador when a Ferengi had kidnapped them, but only because I'd been in sickbay getting a post-flu checkup on Sunday, before being allowed to return to school, and had overheard a less-than-discreet conversation. I'd also been sworn to secrecy.

"Captain Picard said I shouldn't have to wait for the next open enrollment period, since I was already doing the job," Wesley added for the sake of clarification. "I still have to finish my last semester of high school, and then I'll be in other classes as well," he elaborated.

"That's fantastic, Wes," Dana said. "We should celebrate later. Maybe combine it with a holiday celebration before Zoe and T'vek head off to Centaurus."

Data interjected again. "Dana," he said, "that is an excellent suggestion. However, we have already used thirty of our allotted one hundred twenty minutes. Therefore, I believe any planning should be postponed until after class."

His non-admonishment admonishment caused all of us to refocus, just as he'd likely intended, and after a collective murmur of "Sorry, Data," the lesson began.

After class, T'vek invited all of us back to his place for more planning, and everyone accepted, though Data asked me to remain behind, "…for a moment."

"Sure," I said to our tutor. To T'vek I said, "I'll meet you all in a bit?"

"We'll make sure the important decisions wait for your input," he teased. Then he gave me a quick kiss, and went off with the rest of our group.

I turned back to Data, "Is this about the homework from when I was sick?" I asked. "Because I thought you'd said I'd 'completed everything adequately'?" My tone was a slight imitation of his, but not in a malicious way.

"It is not," he said. "It is about the duet we have been working on. I believe we are ready to perform it. There is a holiday party in Ten-Forward on Saturday. If you agree, we will play the duet, and then you will join the quartet for another piece."

"I leave on Monday," I said. "Which, of course you know."

"Is that relevant to this discussion?"

"Yes and no. I'd feel more comfortable about the duet if there was time for a couple of extra practice sessions, and I'm a little nervous about the final for this theory class I'm taking," I put a teasing lilt into my voice, but I'm pretty sure he knew I was still mostly serious. "My tutor is a stickler for accuracy, and I don't want to disappoint him."

I saw him open his mouth, as if to protest that he could not be disappointed, but he closed it again, waited a beat, and then spoke a little more softly than he usually did. "I am certain your results will be more than satisfactory."

From Data, it was a high compliment. "I wish I had your certainty," I admitted. "But it's probably just nerves. Anyway, I'm trying to balance school and music and getting ready for the trip, and I still feel a bit behind even though I've been given a lot of help getting caught up on all my homework." I took a breath more to ground myself than anything else. "Do you have time for a couple of extra rehearsals? Like maybe every night this week?" I really wasn't kidding.

"We already have quartet rehearsal on Thursday, and I would like to play through the entire program on Saturday morning. However, if you wish to add practice sessions tonight and Friday night, I do not see a conflict." He paused a moment, then added, "Zoe… it is often difficult for me to gauge the difference between when a person truly needs more time in rehearsal and when she is simply experiencing nervousness. If you truly believe you need more time, I will make myself available, but please consider: there are times when 'taking a break' can be more beneficial than practicing."

I looked down at the table, unwilling to admit that part of my reason was that I was starting to really enjoy the hours of playing music with him, and would miss them – and him – if I chose not to return to the _Enterprise_ after the holidays. I took a breath and looked up and into those warm gold eyes. "I really believe I need the rehearsal time," I said evenly.

"Then I will expect you at my quarters after your evening meal. Is twenty-hundred hours too late?"

"No, it's fine. Thank you, Data," I said, and left.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43952.09**

**(Wednesday, 14 December 2366, 12:19 hours, ship's time)**

By the time I arrived at T'vek's quarters, my friends had replicated vegetarian burritos and tacos for lunch, and three different venues had been discussed. Dana wanted to throw a winter formal for the entire contingent of high school students – about twenty-seven – and Josh wanted to requisition the use of one of the observation lounges and hold our celebration there.

"I have a better idea," I said.

"Do tell?" T'vek prompted me.

"Gimme a minute." I finished eating my taco, took a large swallow of mango-peach iced tea, and said, "It just occurred to me that Data's never seen our theme park in action; he only ever saw the report."

"You want to hold a party there?"

"With a few tweaks," I said, and I outlined what I wanted to do. "Wes, can you ask Reg to help out again?"

"I _can_ ," he said, "but he might respond more favorably if you ask."

"You're just afraid you'll slip and call him 'Broccoli' again," I countered.

"Yeah," he admitted. "I am, a little."

Dana changed the subject. "So," she breezed, "what's it really like to wear an actual uniform, Wes?"

And just like that he was all smiles again. "It's amazing," he said. "I mean, I feel this whole new sense of responsibility, but I also feel like I have the right to be here. Well, _there_. On the bridge."

"You didn't before?" I asked.

"Not really," he said. "I always felt like Captain Picard might decide he didn't want me around, after all."

"He still could," Josh said, but we all knew he was teasing.

The five of us hung out for another hour or so, eating the rest of the food that had been replicated, and sharing plans for the holidays. T'vek and I were the only people leaving the ship, but Dana said she and her parents would be attending Christmas Eve services in the ship's chapel, and Josh told us about the Christmas day snow-fest in the holodeck.

"Oh, I went to that the year before last," Wes said. "It was amazing."

"Until you beaned Lieutenant Yar with that snowball," Josh said. He added, for the rest of us, "After that it was a whole different kind of amazing. He hit her in the butt."

Everyone laughed, except me. I asked, "Who's Lieutenant Yar."

Wesley's expression darkened and everyone else grew suddenly serious as well. "Tasha Yar," he said, "was the security chief before Worf. She was fierce but she was also really…nice? No. Kind. She was kind." He lowered his voice a bit. "She was killed on a mission. You should ask Data about her sometime. They were close."

My curiosity was piqued, and I made a mental note to do exactly what Wes suggested. "Close or _close?_ " I asked. But I didn't wait for an answer, I just grinned. "If we're done planning, can I have my boyfriend all to myself for a while?"

T'vek leered at me for comic effect, but everyone else got the hint.

After they were gone, he said to me. "My father will be back here in an hour."

We made quick work of returning the dishes and glasses to the replicator, and tidying the Mairaj living quarters, and then I said, "Show me your room."

I'd been to his quarters to study before, but I'd never been beyond the living room and the bathroom. Now, I got a better glimpse into the heart and soul of the boy I loved, because his room was full of wire sculptures of ships and found-art structures, but he also had a board full of holo-pics and posters of both Betazed and Vulcan.

The first one, a seascape, drew my attention. "Is that the Opal Sea?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered. "It's one of my favorite places to be."

"I'm sorry we didn't get to see it, when the ship was there."

"Me, too," he said. "You'd love it there."

"Pretty sure I'd love it wherever you are," I said, my voice catching slightly. I crossed the room to sit on his bed. "Right here, for example, is pretty awesome."

He came and sat with me, covering my hand with his. "You're pretty awesome," he said softly. He nuzzled my neck, nibbling just over my jugular. "You smell so good," he said.

"It's just shampoo," I told him.

"It smells fantastic." He lifted his free hand to run it through my hair, turning my head toward him so we could kiss – a proper kiss – not the chaste peck we'd shared after class.

We kept kissing, and I lifted my free hand to tease the tip of his ear.

"It's not enough," I said.

"No," he agreed. His hand dropped to my waist, so he could slide it under my shirt. "Zoe…if we…would you want to…?" He couldn't get the words out but I knew what he meant.

"You don't mean right now?"

"Not _now_ -now, no. But…maybe over the holidays."

"Yeah," I said, leaning into his touch. "Definitely over the holidays." I freed my other hand from his, and tangled both of mine in his hair, kissing him harder. "God," I said, "vacation cannot come soon enough."

T'vek laughed through the kiss, as his thumb found my nipple. I gasped, and he laughed more, delighted and smug. "You're amazing," he said.

"I bet you say that to all the girls who let you feel them up," I teased.

"And the guys," he teased back. But then he grew sober. "There haven't been any others… not… not in that way."

"Oh, Tev…"

"Have you?" He was almost shy, when he asked me.

"What, had sex?" I wasn't embarrassed, but I was feeling suddenly overwhelmed. "No," I said. "Never. I mean, I've gone out. A little. Back home. Parties " I pulled away from him, and sat up straighter. He pulled his hand back from under my shirt, and I wrapped both of mind around it. "You don't know this," I said. "But the reason – well, one of the reasons - I'm here on the ship is that things weren't working out so well for me at home."

He moved so he was sitting cross-legged on his bed, and I moved to mirror his position. "How so?"

"Well, when I was little, Mom was mostly on short term missions, and assigned to planetary duty. When I got older, she started getting longer assignments, frigates and scout ships and stuff, so I stayed with Dad when he was home – he tours a lot – or at my grandmother's farm when they were both away."

He nodded, "I kind of knew that much."

"Dad's awesome, but for most of my life, he was more of a best friend than a parent. He didn't always pay attention to when I was supposed to be in school, and when I wasn't. He'd take me with him on tour, and if it was a musical and not a pure orchestra thing, he'd get them to throw me onstage as 'atmosphere' or whatever."

"Wait, so you're a performer? Like professional? Stellar!"

"No!" I said. "I mean, yes, but just tiny stuff. And community theatre. 'Oh, you need a kid, use Zoe.' That kind of thing. It was fine when I was five and six and school didn't mean much. When I got older, attendance began to matter, so he couldn't take me with him so often. And then a couple years ago Mom got assigned here."

"And she asked you to come."

"No," I said. "She didn't. I got really mad at her. It was like…she was finally in a place where she didn't have to choose between me and her job, but she still chose the job."

"Oh, Zoe…." he reached out to stroke my cheek. "I'm sorry."

I pulled his hand away from my face, kissed his palm and then continued talking, "No, it's okay. I mean it is, now… but then Dad took a long tour, and I was stuck at my grandmother's and – don't get me wrong – she's fantastic, but I was angry and hurt, and I did some stupid stuff. Parties. Drinking. Dad came home a few days before last Christmas, and then Mom came home right after, and… the day she was supposed to arrive, I found my father and my au pair – that's sort of like a nanny, but not – and him in bed – in the bed he shared with my mother. And so I bailed, and went to this bonfire on the beach… there were older guys there and I was stupid drunk… and just kind of stupid. Mom freaked out… about the drinking and about the older guy."

"How much older?"

"Four years," I admitted. "He was eighteen, and I was fourteen."

"But you didn't?"

"No," I said. I met his eyes, and told him with every ounce of truth in me, "We kissed a little, but that's all. He… he _wanted_ to take me to the other side of this jetty – its where all the kids used to go to hook up, and it was going too far, and my friend Kavan stopped him." I waited to see if he was going to say anything, and when he didn't I added. "Tev, you're the first – you're the only guy I've ever loved. And you're the only one I've truly _wanted_ to do… that… with."

His smile, when it came, was devilishly sexy, but he didn't say anything, just pulled me close again, and kissed me. We stretched out together on his bed, and just stayed there, quietly until we heard Kenash come home.

"I should go," I said. "I have two language finals this afternoon. One in Vulcan, one in Spanish."

"I've got my design final," he said, "so, I feel your pain. Let me walk you to the door." We got up, and paused to say hello to his father, and then he kissed me again. "See you after?"

"I have rehearsal," I said. "I have rehearsal with Data tonight and Friday, and quartet rehearsal on Thursday, and then we're apparently the entertainment for some 'thing' in Ten-Forward on Saturday, but then you and I will leave on Monday, so we'll have oodles of together time. I'll comm you when I'm done, though, if you want?" I stepped into the corridor, and he followed me.

"I love you, Zoe," he said, kissing me one more time. "Yes, comm me after."

"Love you, too," I said. As I left, I reflected that our conversation had covered much of the same ground as my earlier chat with Mom, and yet, the tone of it had been completely different.

**(=A=)**

I hadn't lied to T'vek. I did have finals in Vulcan and Spanish that day, but I breezed through them, as I knew I would, and then I went to sickbay. Only it wasn’t because I succumbing to a virus, and I didn't throw up on anyone's boots.

"Nurse Ogawa?" I asked the duty nurse who was working.

She smiled at me, "It's Alyssa to you. How are you feeling, Zoe?"

"I'm good," I said. "I need to talk to someone about…" I hesitated. "Um… you're not allowed to tell my mother why I'm here, right? Even though it's a starship, privacy laws still count?"

Her smile softened. "Nope," she said. "We're not allowed to tell your mother."

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "I need to talk about birth control." I said.

She nodded once, and picked up a padd. "Let's go to one of the bio-beds and you can relax for a moment while I get the doctor."

It didn't even cross my mind until I was lying on the bed that the doctor was also the mother of one of my friends. While I waited, Alyssa conferred with Dr. Crusher in a whisper. The doctor looked sharply in my direction, but her expression resolved into her usual professional demeanor almost immediately, and by the time she came over to me, she was smiling.

"I just can't get rid of you, can I Zoe?" she teased.

"What can I say, Doc," I replied. "Modern medicine fascinates me. Also, you have some super-hot orderlies."

She laughed softly. "True enough." She touched a control on the bio-bed, and an opaque force-field surrounded us, about a meter out from the bed all the way around. "So…birth control," she said in a more serious tone. "You know I can't tell your mother –" she waited for me to confirm what I'd already discussed with Alyssa. "- but _you_ really should, Zoe. She'd want to know, and to be there if…"

"If T'vek hurts me in some way?"

"That," she allowed, "or if you just need emotional support."

"I'll consider it," I said. I almost wanted to ask her if Wes had come to her at some point, but I knew she couldn't answer. Instead I asked, "Did you tell your mother? When it was your first time?"

She smiled the fond smile that was her version of my mother's 'gushy mom look.' "I was raised mostly by my grandmother," she shared. "She was a very wise woman, and I was afraid she'd be incredibly disappointed in me when she found out I'd taken that step, but she was also a healer, and I think she knew being supportive was more important than being judgmental."

"My mother would tell me I'm too young, or not ready."

"You are young…" the doctor hedged.

"I'll be sixteen in slightly more than a month," I pointed out. "And who decides what 'too young' is, anyway? I mean, if you had a daughter, wouldn't you want her to lose her virginity with someone who loved and cared about her, and not some random guy she met at a party?"

She had been scanning me, the whole time we'd been talking. Now she put the medical wand away, and hitched her hip onto the end of the bio-bed. "If you have the presence of mind to be asking about protection _before_ you take that step, then as a physician, I'd have to say you're ready." She paused, and the teasing glint reappeared in her eyes. "As a mother, and I'm pretty sure your mother would agree, I'd urge you to wait until you're thirty."

I laughed at that, but at the same time her honesty and her humor made me feel a lot more comfortable. "Okay," I said. "Now what?"

"Now," she said, "I ask you some nosy questions, and then I give you a hypo-spray that will prevent you from ovulating for three months, as well as a broad-spectrum vaccine against the most common sexually-transmitted infections."

"Three months?" I asked.

"For now," she said. "When you come back from your vacation, we'll do an exam, and make sure the hormone levels are right for you, and then we can talk about longer-term options."

"How long before it's effective?" I asked, after I'd answered everything about when I'd had my first period and what my cycle was like, and other things that, yes, seemed really nosy.

"Twenty-four hours," she said. "We're lucky we live when we do; not so long ago, birth control for women meant needle injections, daily pills, or intrauterine implants, and you still had to use barrier methods to prevent STIs. Now, things are simpler and safer." She went through a list of possible, but rare, side effects and added, "Come see me if you have any questions. I mean it."

"Cool," I said. "And thanks."

She turned off the privacy field, and I jumped off the bed. "Zoe…have T'vek come in, as well, before you leave for Centaurus."

"Okay," I said.

"And, Zoe… be safe. Remember that you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

"I know," I said.

I left sickbay in a much more reflective mood than I'd been in when I'd arrived, and almost careened into a strange man in an extremely form-fitting white jumpsuit as I reached the door. "Excuse me," he said.

"Sorry," I answered, brushing past him to the doors.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43953.20**

**(Wednesday, 14 December 2366, 22:03 hours, ship's time)**

My mood stayed somewhat subdued even during rehearsal with Data, and was apparently noticeable enough that he caught me before I left. "Zoe," he said, "I have noticed that the expression on your face is similar to the way you look when you ask to have a cup of tea with me. May I invite you for one, now?"

**(= To Be Continued =)**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the one that will come immediately after it take place after "Ménage a Troi" and during "Transfigurations," which is the one with the mojo-giving alien John Smith. If you're wondering why the season break (Best of Both Worlds I & II) is happening over Christmas, it's because that's what the Stardate conversion engines say (which means, avoid the Enterprise during December if you want to live through the holidays.)


	20. Light Up the Sky, Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rehearsals and finals continue, and late-night tea becomes a 'thing.'

**_Stardate 43953.20_ **

**_(Wednesday, 14 December 2366, 22:03 hours, ship's time)_ **

_My mood stayed somewhat subdued even during quartet rehearsal, and was apparently noticeable enough that Data caught me before I left. "Zoe," he said, "I have noticed that the expression on your face is similar to the way you look when you ask to have a cup of tea with me. May I invite you for one, now?"  - Chapter 19, Light Up the Sky, Part I._

**(=A=)**

"Do I really seem that distressed?" I asked.

"I would characterize your expression as more 'reflective,'" he said.

"I'm dealing with some stuff," I admitted. "Decisions of the possibly epic kind," I added. "I'm not sure it would be appropriate to discuss them with you, but… tea sounds lovely, if you really don't mind?" I wondered if I'd ever get to the point where I felt like I wasn't imposing on his time.

"I _really_ do not mind," he assured me. "Would you like to have the same brew we shared the last time you had tea here?"

"Could we do straight peppermint this time? With honey? It'll taste like drinking a candy cane." I conjured a bright smile as I zipped my cello into its gig bag. "Thank you. Do you mind if I tell Tev I'm going to be later than I anticipated?" The truth was, I wasn't quite ready to face my boyfriend again; the conversation in sickbay had me a little bit spooked.  

Data didn't mind me using his comm-system, and Tev didn't object to me being late, because he was absorbed in an art project. Was it wrong that I was relieved? I closed the channel and went to sit on the couch, folding myself into the corner, just as I had before.

"May I ask a personal question?" I asked my tutor – my _friend._ "You can totally refuse to answer once you hear it."

"You may ask me anything, Zoe," he told me. As I'd done before, he'd dragged a chair over to serve as a coffee table. "Help yourself," he said, gesturing to the tea tray.

I leaned forward, and reached for the honey spoon, drizzling some into one of the cups, and then pouring the tea on top. I stirred my concoction, then settled into the corner again, wrapping my hands around the cup as if to warm them, even though I wasn't cold at all. "Have you ever felt like you were at a major crossroads in your life, and you were completely at a loss which direction you should go?"

Data poured his own cup of tea, though he chose not to add honey. He joined me on the couch, angling his body so we could talk to each other better. "Yes," he answered simply. "I have experienced such a dilemma twice in my lifetime."

"Would you mind elaborating?"

"Not at all. The first time was roughly four years after I was discovered by the away team from the _Tripoli_. I had spent much of that time being treated as an object to be studied, and I realized I had two choices: I could continue in that vein, and never be more than a machine, expected to complete tasks deemed too dangerous or undesirable for humans, or I could insist that my personhood be recognized."

"Obviously you chose the latter."

"Yes," he agreed. "However, it was at that point that I first experienced the sort of decision you mentioned. I did not know if the better course of action would be to strike out on my own, and make my own way in the universe, or if I should join Starfleet and attempt to give something back to those who had saved me from lying, inactive, in the dust of Omicron Theta."

"But you're here, so… I mean, I can see you chose Starfleet."

"I entered the Academy in twenty-three forty-four," he confirmed.

I wrinkled my nose, doing some mental math. "I thought you said you made that decision _four_ years after the _Tripoli_ rescued you? But everything I've read about you says you were discovered in twenty-three thirty-eight. That's six years." I blushed, adding, because he was staring at me. "I might have spent some time reading everything publically accessible about you."

"I believe that if I had emotions, I would find that 'flattering,'" he observed, with a tiny upward quirk at the corners of his mouth. But his features smoothed out almost immediately. "It was a two-year process to be allowed admittance."

"Two _years_?"

"Apparently, even though I had chosen to believe in my own personhood, that belief was far from unanimous." He paused, sipped from his cup, and then added, "It is still not, but here, on this ship, I have found a sense of belonging and camaraderie I never expected to find at all."

"People are stupid," I declared.

"In this case, 'ignorant' would be a more accurate assessment."

I rolled my eyes at his correction. "If you say so." I was quiet for several seconds, just thinking about what he said, and considering the conversations I'd been having with Mom and Tev. I drank some of the sweet, mint tea, breathing in the peppermint scent. "So, what was the second time?"

"Ah. That was roughly seven years ago."

"Roughly?"

"Six years, eleven months three days – " he stopped in reaction to the pointed look I was giving him. "I had been promoted to lieutenant, but I had never truly been accepted as part of any crew. My commanding officers generally assigned me to menial tasks that did not involve close work with others. As I do not require sleep, I often 'worked the clock around' in an effort to be considered useful."

"Data, that's tantamount to abuse."

"Not as such," he said in his perfectly rational manner. "No one forced me to accept those tasks. It simply had not occurred to me to express my own preferences with regard to my career in Starfleet."

"So, what did you do?"

"Captain Picard came to me asking for a list of individuals best suited for a task he was about to undertake. When I provided the requested information, he observed that even though I possessed the knowledge and skillset necessary for the mission in question, I had not included myself as a candidate. He then informed me that he would not ask me to fill the open position, that I must choose to move beyond strict adherence to orders and _ask_ for the job."

"Where was the dilemma in that?"

"For a human, the obvious answer would be to ask, yes?"

"Yes," I said. "Of course it would."

"For an android, with no inherent sense of ambition, and limited experience in social organizations, choosing to put my own aspirations ahead of what I had been instructed to do was a difficult choice."

"How difficult is difficult?"

"I ruminated for over an hour." At my incredulous look he tilted his head in a manner that was usually meant to be reproachful. "That is a considerable length of time for me, Zoe."

I laughed softly. "Ok. But you did ask, right?"

"Yes. And it is because I went on that mission with Captain Picard that I was transferred to the _Trieste_ , and promised a position on the _Enterprise_ , once it was ready for launch."

"Wow."

"Indeed." He changed his tone again, softening it slightly. "Zoe, I am happy to continue answering your 'personal' questions, but I do not believe telling you my life story is helping you with _your_ dilemma."

"Actually, it is, but I can't tell you how, or why, because…" I trailed off.

"Because it is related to your relationship with the Mairaj boy?"

I blushed faintly. "Yeah, kind of. I mean… there's more to it than just that." I swirled my cup, mixing the remaining honey and tea back together. "The other part is… Mom said that if my father agreed, and I still wanted to after the holidays, I could stay. On Centaurus."

"And you are not certain of what you truly want." He made it a statement, and when I looked away from the eddies of tea and honey in my cup and met his eyes, something in his expression really rocked me.

"I thought I was…"

"But you are concerned about your… boyfriend?"

"Actually, no. I mean I love him, and I'd miss him, but I'm fifteen and he's sixteen and high school relationships never last forever, anyway. It's just… Mom pointed out that one of the reasons she brought me here was so that we could repair our relationship, and then there's this amazing, kind, patient person who started out as my teacher and became a really good friend, and I'm not sure I want to walk away from that… from you."

"I see," he said. "I do not wish to make your decision more difficult, but I would be remiss if I did not tell you that, were you not to return to the _Enterprise_ after your holiday break, your presence would be… missed."

I managed to give him a rueful smile. "I should go. It's late, and I've already taken enough of your time. Thank you for talking with me, and for listening." I got up, leaving my cup on the tray, and grabbing my cello. "I'll see you at rehearsal tomorrow night," I said.

Data surprised me by rising, also, and walking with me to the door. "Good night, Zoe."

I wanted to hug him, but fought the impulse. Instead, I flashed a mischievous grin. "If I do come back," I said. "You'll have to get a proper coffee table. I have a feeling that tea and conversation might become a regular occurrence."

He glanced at the space in front of his couch. "If you return," he said, making it a bargain. "I will do so."

I laughed. "You're the best. The absolute best." And then I did hug him. It was brief, but it was _meant_ , and I'm pretty sure he understood what I was trying to convey. "G'night, Data," I added, and then I left.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43955.26**

**(Thursday, 15 December 2366, 16:06 hours, ship's time)**

**Four days into the week, we'd had semester finals in every class except Federation History and Advanced Mathematics. As both classes were challenging ones, Dana, Annette, and I met in my quarters for a study session in preparation for those last two exams.**

"So, what are we focusing on first?" I asked, when they'd both arrived with their padds in hand.

"History," Dana said. "Then maybe math if Annette doesn't mind."

"I don't," she said. "Actually, I'd love to see what you're working on. If I do well on my own final, I might be in your tutorial after the break."

"Really?" I said. "It'll be nice not to be outnumbered by the boys for a change."

"I feel your pain. I'm the only girl in my Introduction to the Principles of Engineering class, and it's kind of intimidating."

"We should focus on history," Dana reminded us.

We did so, gathering around the glass-topped dining table rather than being more casual on the living area floor. After about an hour, we took a break for snacks – I introduced my friends to the glorious combination of sliced apples dipped in peanut butter – and chatted more casually.

"Did I see you in Sickbay yesterday, Zoe?" Annette asked at one point. "You're not relapsing, are you?"

"No," I said. "Oh, god, no. I just… I had to see the doctor about something personal."

She peered at me, as if trying to decide how nosy she was going to be. Then her face lit up with a huge grin. "You and T'vek are planning to go all the way during the holidays! I knew it! Wes said you were already, but, I didn't think so."

I could feel my cheeks getting hot. "You've _talked_ about us?" I asked. "Dana, do you and Josh talk about me and Tev, too?"

"Nope," she deadpanned. "We only ever speculate about Wes and Annette."

That caused the three of us to dissolve into giggles, but then Dana said, "Is Annette right, though, Zoe? Are you and T'vek planning to… do it?"

"You'd never know we all grew up in the Age of Enlightenment, the way we're dancing around the word 'sex,'" I said, mostly to deflect their questions. "Sex, sex, sex, sex, sex. If we can't even say the word in a private conversation with friends, do we have any business doing it?"

"Fair point," Dana said. "So, are you and Tev planning to have sex?" She said it with this really dirty tone that made me start laughing again, and it took me a moment to calm myself so I could answer.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm pretty sure we are. I mean… he wants to. I want to. We both…"

"Want to?" Annette asked, with a smile that was both warm and sympathetic.

"Sorry," I said, and then, because it was apparently _that_ kind of conversation. "Have you and Wes…?"

Her smile softened. "Monday night," she told us. "To celebrate his field promotion."

"Was it your first time?" Dana asked.

"Yes," she said. "It was okay, though."

"I'd hope so," I said. "I mean, his mother's a doctor… he's been staring at models of human anatomy his entire life."

We all laughed again, and the serious mood was broken.

"So, more history, or math?" Dana asked when we'd recycled our plates and glasses. "I think I'm actually okay with math," she added.

"Me, too," I said, surprising myself. "I was shaky on some things before I got sick, but you and Tev and Data helped so much when I was catching up, that I actually feel really confident about the exam."

"Not too confident, though?" Dana asked. "Right?"

"Confident. Not cocky," I confirmed.

"More history then," Annette declared, and that's what we did.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43955.56**

**(Thursday, 15 December 2366, 18:46 hours, ship's time)**

In the interest of practicing what I preached, so to speak, I contacted T'vek before I headed to quartet rehearsal, reminding him to visit sickbay for a bio-scan and an anti-STI vaccine. I also felt obligated to point out that birth control options for men were much less invasive than even the modern hormone therapy women were required to use.

He listened, and even agreed to go, without either of us doing much blushing or stammering – easier since the conversation happened over the comm system. Then I reminded him that I'd be going to Data's directly from rehearsal.

"To rehearse your duet?"

"No, actually. I'm sitting my theory exam."

"Who sits an exam at nine o'clock at night?"

"Me. So that I won't be angsting over it all day tomorrow and Saturday, and because if I don't take it tonight, I have to take it Sunday. Data's been going out of his way to rehearse with me all week, so I feel prepared for the concert – you _are_ still coming, right?"

"An entire horde of Ontallian slither-worms couldn't keep me away," he promised. "Maybe my parents and I could share a table with your mother? Since we still haven't managed to have dinner?"

"Not a bad idea," I said. "Let's plan it."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43955.82**

**(Thursday, 15 December 2366, 21:00 ship's time)**

Data had ensured that quartet rehearsal ended promptly at eight-thirty so that I wouldn't have to start my theory exam one minute later than nine.

"You will need your padd for the first portion of the examination," he said, taking my cello from me. "Afterward I will give you a break before the applied theory section."

"Why do I get the feeling this exam is going to be way more difficult than whatever you have planned for math tomorrow?"

He raised his eyebrows at me. "Must I remind you that this is a college-level course?"

"Sometimes," I confessed, "I forget it's a class at all."

"If you are nervous," he said, "you have no reason to be. You know the material."

"If you say so," I said, sitting down at his dining table.

He took my padd, tapped in a few commands, and handed it back to me. "Begin."

I did as he asked, noticing peripherally that he'd seated himself at his workstation. I'd never actually seen him working at it, but there was something kind of cozy about me working on my stuff while he was working on his. Not sure where that thought had come from, I banished it, and focused on the exam.

The written portion was difficult, but Data had been correct: I knew the material. About forty-minutes into the forty-five minutes he'd allotted me, I said, "Finished," and pushed my padd away.

"Do you wish to know your score now, or would you prefer to complete the practical portion first?" he asked, without his focus seeming to leave whatever he was working on.

"I'd rather wait, if that's okay."

"It is fine. I will need four-point-seven-three minutes to complete my task before we can begin the practical. Would you care for a refreshment while you wait?"

"I'm good," I said. "Though if it wouldn't be a major imposition to use your bathroom…"

"It would not."

I got up, and walked through his bedroom, past the perfectly-made bed, the completely uncluttered dresser, and the bare floor, to the bathroom, used it, washed my hands and returned to the main room. "Thanks," I said. "Now what?"

"If you will unpack your cello, I will be asking you to demonstrate some musical shapes and intervals. Did our quartet rehearsal provide you with sufficient warm-up time, or would you like a few more minutes?"

"I'm ready," I said. "Bring it on."

He gave me a look, lifting his brows at me, but then he left his console, placed a chair opposite mine, and sat down. "We will begin with basic scales," he said, and then he took me through a series of practical requests, asking me to play certain riffs in different keys, or to demonstrate specific arpeggios. He asked me questions about enharmonic tuning, about sympathetic vibrations, and finally, when I thought I couldn't possibly answer another question, he called time.

"Please tell me we're done and that this isn't a break?"

"We are finished."

"Did I pass?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

He stared at me for what felt like several minutes, then rose from the chair and moved to stand directly in front of me. "Zoe, you achieved a perfect score. Do you believe I would have allowed you to sit an examination of if I did not know you were ready?"

"Some teachers believe you learn as much by failing…"

"That is true," he said. "But I am not one of them. I believe there is great difference between the kind of failure you are describing, and being 'set up' to fail."

I thought about that for a long moment. "That makes sense," I said. I got up, and brushed past him to grab my gig bag and started packing my cello. "Thank you," I said, "for the class and your time and everything."

"You are welcome," he said softly.

I rested my packed cello on the floor, and leaned on it. "Are we doing another semester of theory… after the break?"

"It is designed to be a year-long course," he said. "If you return to the ship after your break, I will be glad to continue working with you."

"Okay," I said again. I hefted the instrument. "I should go. Let you get back to… whatever it is you were doing."

"I will see you in class tomorrow, Zoe."

I turned to go, hesitating for a moment at the door. "Hey, Data?"

"Zoe?"

But I couldn't find the right words to express what I wanted him to know. "Never mind," I said. "Goodnight."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43956.11**

**(Thursday, 15 December 2366, 23:33 hours, ship's time)**

I wasn't at all surprised that T'vek was waiting for me in the corridor. He took my cello from me, grabbed my hand with his free one, and asked, "So?"

"Apparently, I 'achieved a perfect score,'" I told him. "Also? Data is capable of writing exams that are truly brutal."

"If he's pushing you, it means he thinks you're capable."

"I guess," I said. "When do you have to be home?"

"Zero two hundred hours. Is your mother on duty tonight?"

"Covering Science One on the bridge overnight."

"Awesome."

Despite knowing my mother's schedule, I checked every inch of our quarters before letting T'vek past the living area, and then I still sent a text message to her letting her know that I was back and that he was visiting for a bit. "All clear," I said. "Are you hungry, or…?"

He was staring at me with dark, luminous eyes. "C'mere."

I set my cello in the corner and then returned to stand face-to-face with him. We tangled our hands in each other's hair and kissed until we were breathless, and then we moved to my room, to my bed, where shirts and pants were quickly stripped away.

We didn't actually have sex that night. We'd made an unspoken agreement that the first time wouldn't be a night when we had a time-limit, but with our hands and lips we did almost everything else that two horny teenagers could do without taking that last step.

It wasn't exactly perfect.

He removed my bra and kissed my breasts, but when he took my nipple into his mouth to nibble and tease, I had to stop him. "Don't bite so hard," I said. "More tongue, less teeth."

It was the same when it was my turn, when I met him eye-to-eye, so to speak. First, I was overcome with the desire to giggle. Then I was tentative. But when I reached out my hand to stroke him _there_ his responsive shiver was enticing. "Tell me if I'm doing this wrong," I asked him.

"You're – ah – fine," he said, his words coming amidst tremors.

And so I experimented, finally getting the nerve to take _him_ into _my_ mouth until: "Ouch! Zoe! Too much teeth!"

"I'm sorry!" I said, moving away. "I've never done this before."

"Hey," he said. "It's okay. I haven't done it either, you know."

"Great," I grumbled. "The blind leading the lame, and all that."

"Who are you calling lame?"

"Good question." But it made me laugh, and when I checked the time, it was nearly one-thirty. "You should probably get dressed," I said. "Not that I want you to leave, but…"

"But a posse of worried parents kills the mood?" he teased.

"Yeah, kind of."

I pulled an old t-shirt on, while he got dressed, and then I walked him to the door. "See you tomorrow," I said.

His answer was to kiss me. "Love you. G'night, Zoe."

I enabled the privacy locks on the door – Mom would be able to get in using her access code – and went to bed.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43957.27**

**(Friday, 16 December 2366, 09:41 hours, ship's time)**

On Friday morning, nerves hit me as I got ready to go to my math class. "Tell me I'm not going to fail?" I begged my mother at breakfast.

"You're not going to fail," she said in a flat tone, but ruined the effect by laughing softly. "Zoe, it's one exam. Even if you don't get the highest score, you'll still pass."

I thought about it. "I won't get the highest score. Wes or Tev will. I'm just not 'mathy' enough."

"And yet, everything I've heard tells me you've held your own."

"Everything you've heard?"

"Commander Data and I do talk on occasion," she allowed.

"Right," I said, "I know. You worked together on the Ichobarian thing, yeah?"

"Look who's taking a greater interest in shipboard events," my mother observed, pleased. "Does this mean you don't want to stay on Centaurus?"

"It means," I said, "that I want the right to decide for myself. Centaurus has beaches, and an arts academy, and…"

"And the _Enterprise_ has your boyfriend, and a very special friend in the form of Data," my mother continued for me. Wryly, she added, "Not to mention me."

"How could I forget the coolest mother in the galaxy," I teased. I asked the replicator for a chocolate protein shake in lieu of actual food, and when my mother shot a questioning glance my way, I explained, "Chocolate conquers everything."

She laughed again, and wished me luck on my test.

**(=A=)**

My nerves subsided by the time I actually arrived at the conference room for Data's tutorial, and while I wasn't the first to finish his exam (Wesley was), I also wasn't the last (that was Josh). As well, I'd felt like I actually understood the material: a credit to Data's patience and the extra time he'd given me, in between rehearsing our duet.

Even though I wasn't the last to finish my test, I'd been assigned the task of getting Data to the holodeck after class. Wes and Tev had both cited my 'rapport' with our teacher as the reason. Personally, I think they only picked me because they knew I would absolutely resort to wheedling, if it became necessary.

In any case, once we'd been officially dismissed, I turned back to our tutor. "Data, I've considered about six different ways to ask you this, but, I've decided to just be plain: we're all meeting for lunch on the holodeck. I checked with Geordi this morning, and he said you're not scheduled for a shift on the bridge, and you're also not expected in engineering, and you'd make five loyal students really happy if you joined us."

"If I were to guess," he responded, "that you have planned a celebration you wish me to be a part of, would I be correct?"

"You know you would."

"Then I will join you."

"Fantastic." I glanced at my padd. "They're asking me to stall for a few minutes. So… did you catch the Federation Cup yacht race results this morning? The team from Pacifica's kicking ass."

"I would have expected as much, considering that their culture is almost entirely tied to life on the water. Although, I would also have expected that Akkalla, as the hosting planet, would have a 'home court' advantage."

"I don't know a lot about Akkalla," I admitted. "It's another water-world, isn't it?"

"It is," Data confirmed.

"Mm."

"Zoe?"

"Nothing, sorry. I never would have pegged you as a yachtie, though."

"I am not. However, I try to stay 'up to date' on common cultural touchstones, and sports are a frequent topic of conversation."

I laughed. "Not with us, typically. But I also grew up on the water, and I've been sailing small craft almost as long as I've been surfing, so my interest in the race is legit." I hoisted myself onto the conference table we typically used as the center point for our class, sitting next to the chair Data still occupied. "Geordi said I should talk about my other interests – beyond math and music and theatre with you, but I also feel like I'm imposing if I just want to chat."

"You have never been an imposition," he stated. "I welcome conversation with you, Zoe. May I ask when Geordi offered this advice?"

"At the concert for Ambassador Sarek," I said. "I mentioned that I'd been reading the captain's bio and we talked about his tendency to choose diplomacy over force, and Geordi asked me why someone who professed to have no interest in Starfleet would even research that."

"What did you answer?"

"The truth. I'm not the kind of person who would do well at the Academy, but I respect what you all do. And also that I'm fascinated by politics."

"I do not doubt that. I suspect the theatrical nature of galactic politics appeals to your sense of drama."

I blushed. "Something like that, yeah." I wanted the conversation to continue, but my padd flashed the word _now_. "We are being summoned," I said, and then, in an affected vaguely British accent, I invited, "Commander Data, may I have the honor of escorting you to holodeck three?"

He offered his arm as I slid off the table, and I looped my own through it. "The honor, Ms. Harris, is mine." He didn't match my accent, but he matched my tone, and that was enough.

If I felt a bit ridiculous walking through the corridors on his arm, I didn't let on. When we arrived at the holodeck doors, they were open, and it was dark inside, as I'd known it would be. We stepped inside, and the doors slid shut behind us.  

"If you'd like to do the honors, Data," I told him. "The program we're using can be executed with the phrase, 'light up the sky.'"

He spoke the words I'd given him, and the lights came up as the program flickered into being, revealing my classmates standing in front of a very large, decorated Christmas tree. The ornaments on it were scale model representations of all of our rides, made to look like tin toys, and we'd decked out the rides in a seasonal version of the steampunk twinkle lights they typically sported.

"Welcome to Crumpe and Lillivick's Quantum Carnival," I said. "When we started discussing a party, we realized you never got to see our actual presentation. We've tweaked the décor a little, for the season. We'd really like to give the program over for public use after today, though."

Data was looking around at all we'd done, "This is more than I expected you to do."

"Once we got started," Wes said, stepping forward, "we were having so much fun with it, we had to keep going."

"There are elements of all of us in it," Dana added. "Wesley, T'vek, and Zoe's contributions are the most obvious, but…"

"But we're all here," Josh said. "Let's go on some rides now, so we can have lunch and stuff?"

My arm was still linked through Data's. "Would you like to choose another tour guide for the rest of the morning?" I asked, pulling away slightly.

Data favored all of us with the merest hint of a smile. "I will 'stick' the guide I have," he said. "As long as everyone else comes along."

For the next two hours we took Data on all the rides, answered his questions, and laughed lot. Finally, as the fake sky above us grew dim (we'd programmed it that way), we all met back at the tree, where a picnic table was set up. "If everyone would take a seat," T'vek said, taking over as host. "We're serving corn dogs, crinkle-cut French fries, and root beer floats."

The six of us took our seats, though we had to explain the proper method of consuming the foods we'd chosen.

"Is it not proper etiquette to use utensils at meals?" Data asked.

"Not with carnival food," Wesley explained. "Here, using your fingers is the preferred method."

"It's why we provided wet-wipes instead of normal napkins," I added. "Wes, the fries are awesome."

"Mom's recipe," he said. "The base recipe on file bordered on gross."

"And for this improvement, we thank you, oh boy wonder," intoned Josh.

When the food was gone, and programmed twilight was about to deepen into full darkness, I nudged Wes under the table.

"Data, we have one more thing to show you," he said. "It's our way of thanking you for leading this tutorial."

"Look up," I said, as T'vek gave a quiet instruction to the computer.

Above us, the holographic sky filled with a colorful fireworks display, each volley raining fountains of fiery color more incredible than the last. It lasted about ten minutes, and the whole time, sitting between Data and T'vek, and across from my best friend and the two other boys who had become my friends as well, I kept thinking to myself, _do you really want to give this up?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The concert Data and Zoe have been rehearsing for will be in chapter 32. No, really, it will. That aside, I really struggled with this chapter. There were so many really sweet moments that I had to cut because they were nice but didn't move things forward. Some might be recycled into future bits, some may not. As well, I spent the weekend I initially wrote this at Dallas Comic-Con, and I think actually meeting Brent Spiner pulled me out of my story a little bit. (He is, in person, a wonderful mixture of funny, kind, and deliciously snarky.) Data's backstory comes, in part, from Christopher L. Bennett's TNG novel THE BURIED AGE, though nothing was a direct quote.


	21. Love, Magic, Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Data and Zoe play their duet for an actual audience, and Zoe gets to meet a lot of senior officers... without throwing up on anyone's shoes, this time.

**Stardate 43959.93**

**(Saturday, 17 December 2366, 09:01 hours, ship's time)**

"Mom, does this dress look frumpy?" It was the morning of the concert Data had scheduled. The first half would be a duet he and I had been rehearsing; the other half was a selection of chamber music the quartet would be playing, only I'd be playing the cello part. I wasn't nervous, exactly. More like… anticipatory. And excited.

"Let me see?" my mother came into my bedroom and had me turn in all directions. "It's not the most flattering item of clothing you own," she added, looking the black dress up and down. It wasn't the same dress I'd worn to the concert for Ambassador Sarek, but something a bit sweeter, and more innocent.

"But it's got a full skirt," I pointed out. "If I wear any of my other dresses, I risk flashing the audience."

"It would get their attention," my mother teased. She brushed past me to explore my closet. "What is everyone else wearing?" she asked as she moved hangers back and forth.

"Standard duty uniforms, I'd assume. We're doing a full run-through in an hour. I'll ask then."

"Do that," she said. "And I'll see if I can't come up with a couple of other options."

"I should have taken up viola," I muttered. "Then I'd be able to wear any kind of skirt that I wanted."

"You already play the viola," she reminded me. She was right, of course. Most musicians play several instruments, even if there's one they specialize in. Dad had insisted upon it. Of all the standard human orchestral strings, the only one I didn't play was double bass, and that was only because I was too small to play a full-sized instrument.

"I play a wicked musical saw, too, but no one writes duets for those… not that I'd know where to even find one on a starship." Pretty much everything that required sawing on the _Enterprise_ was done with laser cutters. The saw was something I'd picked up from my grandmother, who preferred folk music to the serious classical stuff I had been focusing on most recently. I froze, then, and added, "Whatever you do, do _not_ tell Data I play the saw. It's just the kind of thing he'd want to experiment with."

My mother laughed at that. "I won't," she said. "I promise. Go eat something, and then go to rehearsal. Your concert isn't until eight, there's time to work out wardrobe."

I shucked off the dress, replacing it with jeans and a baggy forest-green turtle-neck, slid shoes on and went out to the main section of our quarters, twisting my hair into a messy pony-tail as I did so. "Do you want anything?" I called to my mother.

"Maybe a fruit salad." she said.

I asked the replicator for two fruit salads with sides of yogurt and, for me, buttered toast as well, which it promptly provided, along with mugs of hot coffee. "It's going to be a little weird going from eating whatever I'm in the mood for to eating things that are in season. Dad says Gia likes cooking almost as much as he does."

"I thought you were looking forward to planetary life," my mother said, joining me at the table. This had been a frequent topic of conversation for the last several weeks, ever since I'd begged her to let me stay with my father if he was willing to let me.

"Dirtside has its advantages," I said, stabbing some pineapple with my fork. "Admitting that there are a few conveniences here doesn't make living with Dad any less desirable. At least on a planet, I know my fruit is actually, you know, _fruit_ , and not reconstituted toenail clippings mixed with recycled hair gel."

"Mmm, tasty," my mother quipped.

I just rolled my eyes at her.

We finished eating, and she left for her duty shift. I went back to my room to stare at my closet and will my existing clothing to morph into the perfect outfit.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43961.09**

**(Saturday, 17 December 2366, 19:13 hours, ship's time)**

Per Data's instructions, I met him, not in Ten-Forward, but in the conference room where we used to meet for my theory lessons, before we moved them to his quarters. The rest of the quartet was there, already, though they weren't playing until the second half.

Cress – really Cressida, but she preferred the shortened version of her name - came over to me, and greeted me warmly. "Zoe, you look lovely, I'm so glad you stuck with us."

"Thank you," I said. "You and Dennis look pretty amazing yourselves." They were both in their dress uniforms, and her deep red uniform really worked for her. I, on the other hand, had chosen a white blouse, a black skirt that was barely knee-length but had enough volume to still be appropriate, and a faux-suede forest-green vest, as a nod to the season. "Data's not here?"

"He is setting your chair, and making sure your mother and her party have good seats," Cress said. "Are you nervous, Zoe? Because if I didn't know better, I'd swear Data was."

I laughed softly. "I'm a little anxious, I guess – I always am before any kind of performance – but once we start, I'll be fine."

"I heard that you'd been performing all your life," Dennis said, joining the conversation. "Is that true?"

"Most of it," I said. "But nothing really big until I was eleven or twelve."

"As old as that," he teased. "Oh, however will you manage?"

We all laughed, but then I remembered. "Hey, I was wondering…I know tonight is supposed to be a celebration of a bunch of Decemberish holidays, and I know we agreed to avoid anything specifically Christmassy, but could we add a piece at the end of the quartet set?"

Cress and Dennis met each other's eyes. "What did you have in mind, Zoe?" the woman in command red asked.

"I brought the music – it's really easy," I began. "Just a four part round of 'Dona Nobis Pacem.'"

"'Grant us peace,'" Dennis translated. "I'm familiar with it. If Commander Data is amenable-"

"Amenable to what?" Data asked, interrupting as he came into the room. I hadn't even heard the doors open.

"Your young protégé wants us to add 'Dona Nobis Pacem' to the end of our set," Dennis explained.

"I believe it would be an appropriate 'tag' to our performance," he said. "Zoe, did you bring music?"

"I did," I said. I took my padd out of my gig bag, tapped a couple of commands, and sent the sheet music to each of our music stands. "Loaded and everything," I added. I turned then, and got my first look at Data in _his_ dress uniform. "Ohhh," I said softly. "Data, seriously, you look fantastic."

"Thank you Zoe," he said, his tone just as even as ever, though one of his eyebrows quirked slightly, as if he were surprised that I'd made the comment at all. He took in my attire, "You are also particularly aesthetically pleasing, this evening."

I stifled a chuckle, and managed to thank him, teasing, "Flatterer."

He ignored my comment and merely asked, "Shall we warm up?" He was addressing me, directly, but he added, to Dennis and Cress. "Zoe and I will tune and warm up now, and we will re-tune and warm up as a group during the intermission." He extended a hand in the direction of a pair of chairs.

Our warm-up was brief, but effective. As he always knew the music 'by heart,' and I was accustomed to memorizing it, we wouldn't need music stands for our duet. I was glad, because being able to meet his eyes as we played made it easier to stay in synch.

After a few minutes he declared us ready.

"It is time," he said. "Please follow me."

He led me out of the conference room and into the lounge via a different set of doors than those near the main turbolift banks, and when we got to the raised platform that served as our stage, he offered his free hand to help me balance. I was used to climbing steps with my cello in hand – even in heels, like the ones I was wearing that night – but it was a sweet gesture.

We'd discussed how things would work, so I knew to go to the chair he'd set for me, and stand in front of it, while he moved to speak to the audience – and there was a serious audience. Everyone from our tutorial, Annette, a few other high school students, Geordi, Barclay, Wes's mother, the Captain, had come. I found T'vek in the front row, caught his eye, and grinned.

His return grin made me feel much more at ease.

Data finished his introductory speech, explaining who I was and why I was on stage, and I inclined my head to the audience. Then I took my seat, and he cued me to begin.

By the second section of our duet, I felt as if I had been electrified. We'd played the piece well during rehearsals, but that night, it was as if we were completely connected. My part wove in and out of the part he played, cello and violin having a dialogue that was sometimes a seduction and sometimes a debate. By the time we'd crescendoed to the end of the final passage, I knew we had the audience completely under our control. It was a heady feeling.

The applause confirmed my own feelings, and I sketched a curtsey from behind my cello, before following Data back to the conference room where Dennis and Cress had been watching us on a monitor.

"You two," Cress said, squeezing Data's arm and then pulling me into a slightly awkward hug (I was carrying my cello), "were incredible."

"Thank you," I said. "I felt like we were flying. Without a ship."

She and Dennis laughed softly, while Data merely said, "I do not believe we have ever played together with better attunement or a greater competence."

Impulsively, I hugged him. "In other words," I said, as his arms came around me, stiffly, but less so than the last time we'd embraced, "we _rocked._ "

I could feel the tilting of his head, and hear the ever-so-slight smile in his voice when he said, "Indeed."

I stepped away from him, and smoothed my outfit.

"Okay, I said, "I'm ready for more. Who's with me?"

If the second half of the concert didn't make my skin tingle the way the duet had, at the very least the quartet had captured the audience. Rather than a really popular piece, Data had selected a Beethoven quartet in F-major, one that opened with the melody played on cello. I knew he'd selected it to showcase me, and I'd been incredibly worried when rehearsals had begun that Cress and Dennis would resent it.

Truly collaborative musicians, they supported both the music and me playing it, and on stage that night, just as it had been in our rehearsals, I wasn't some kid, or Data's student, I was a fully enmeshed part of the group.

After our collective bow, Data asked me to step forward. "Introduce the encore," he said softly in my ear.

"Me?" I whispered back.

His answer was a simple, "Yes."

And so I thanked everyone for attending, thanked Dennis and Cressida for welcoming me into their group, and thanked Data for being a generous teacher and gracious friend before I said. "As a nod to the many holidays we celebrate at this time of year, my fellow musicians have agreed to my selection of an encore piece. It's an old tune, written in Latin, but it has only three words: 'Grant us peace.' We'll be doing it as a round. If you know it, and feel inclined to sing along, feel free. As one of my personal heroes once said, 'There's no such thing as a wrong note as long as you're singing it.'"

I resumed my chair, and this time, everyone else looked to me. The displays in the music stands were synched, and so we began.

The audience joined in when Cressida's viola joined my cello, as we built the song from the bottom up, and for about ten minutes, we existed, all of us, not just in a ship made of titanium, duranium, and transparent aluminum, but also in a bubble of love and magic.

**(=A=)**

After the concert, there was a reception, and I noticed Cressida pull Data aside and whisper something, then gesture to me. I saw him nod, and then he came to join me at the table where my mother, T'vek, and T'vek's parents were seated. Kenash and my mother had both gushed, while T'rella's comments had been understated but appreciative. "You showed remarkable poise and musicality," she said.

"Thank you," I said. I felt, rather than saw, Data come up behind me.

"Commander Harris, Commander Mairaj, Kenash," he greeted, and then added, "T'vek. May I borrow Zoe for a few minutes?"

"Of course, Commander," my mother said, though she added, "We all enjoyed the performance."

"Thank you," Data said to my mother. To me, he said, "Zoe, please accompany me."

I mouthed 'sorry' to Mom and Tev, said, "Sure, Data," and followed him across the room where I saw Geordi and Reginald Barclay sharing a table with a tall, bearded man, a Klingon, and a woman not much taller than I was, who had long, dark, curly hair. The two officers I knew interrupted their conversation to congratulate both of us on our performance.

Data acknowledged them – as did I – but then he turned to the others, "Commander Riker," he greeted, "Counselor Troi, Lieutenant Worf, I would like to introduce you all to Zoe Harris."

The bearded man, Riker, grinned at me, and I saw a flash of humor in his blue eyes. "Good to finally meet Data's Zoe," he said genially, "although, I think we've met once or twice before."

"Yes, sir. My mother said as much," I admitted. "But I'm afraid I don't really remember… no, wait… I do. Only you didn't have a beard then, and I think you were playing…" I tried to remember what instrument. Something brass. "Trombone?"

He grinned. "Do you like jazz?"

"I like pretty much all music," I answered. "I grew up with mostly classical and folk, though."

"Folk music?" the curly-haired woman interjected. "How interesting. It's good to meet you Zoe; you can call me Deanna."

Her eyes were dark and luminous, like Tev's, and her accent was a mix of British English and something else, and I realized she must be at least part Betazoid. "Thank you," I said, because I really didn't know what else to offer, but she seemed to be waiting for more. "My grandmother is a musician and anthropologist, and used to specialize in political and protest songs, and how music and civil activism are related."

"Used to?" Riker asked.

"She's retired, now. Lives on the family farm on Centaurus."

"Your grandmother isn't Irene Harris?"

"Yes, sir – " I began.

"Will – " he corrected, interrupting.

"Yes, Will. You know her?"

"I took a class from her when she did a guest semester at the academy. Your mother was in that class!" He said it as if the connections had just formed in his brain. "The name Harris threw me for a moment. I still think of your mother as Emily Morelli."

I nodded smiling. "Well, she's been Harris as long as I've been alive… or longer.  The story is that Gran took a liking to her, and invited her back to the farm during semester break. She met my father and they were married before classes resumed. I guess it helped that he went to a conservatory in San Francisco." I added in a softer tone, "But they're divorced now. Dad's getting married again over Christmas."

Deanna favored me with a combination of a penetrating stare and a wistful smile. "You're going to the wedding, Zoe? Are you on good terms with your father?"

"We're good," I said. "Gia – that's the almost-stepmonster – is a lot less horrible than she could be, and has good taste in fashion, at least." I hesitated, gauging their level of humor. "I might have blackmailed my father into getting me a flitter for my birthday in order to guarantee my presence and participation."

As I'd hoped, they both laughed. The Klingon, however, did not. Instead, he glowered at me. "Children should not blackmail their fathers," he almost growled. "I enjoyed your music. Good night."

Alarmed that I'd insulted him, I took a step away from the table, apologizing, "I'm really sorry," I said, looking for a way to bolt, but I felt Data's hand at the small of my back.

"You said nothing wrong," he said softly.

Deanna seconded him. "Worf's a little touchy today," she explained. "It's a long story, and it's not my place to tell it, but you needn't worry, Zoe." Her dark eyes met mine full-on. "I promise."

I waited a beat, taking her measure as she had mine. "Okay," I said slowly.

She looked slightly past me, addressing Data, "Are you two joining us, then?" Her invitation was warm, and the smile she wore was sincere.

Data glanced at me, and then back at his friends, "Another time," he said. "Captain Picard asked that I bring Zoe by his table, and then I must return her to her family.

"It was nice to meet you all," I said, as gentle pressure from my friend's hand guided me away. Out of earshot, I whispered, "You didn't tell me anything about having to talk to the captain. Data, the last time I saw him, I puked on his feet."

He halted, and moved to face me. "Are you experiencing nausea now?" he asked, concern evident in his tone and on his face.

"No," I said. "But I might die of embarrassment."

"If you are polite and engaging, as you just were with Commander Riker and the Counselor, you will 'do fine,'" he said. "He is expecting to speak with you. To avoid doing so would be considered a breach of etiquette." He paused, then, watching me. "I have never seen you nervous before," he observed.

"Yeah, you have," I said. "The day I asked about being in your tutorial, I was terrified."

"You hid it well," he said.

"It was worth it, in the end."

He understood my comment for the backhanded compliment it was. "Thank you, Zoe. I believe it has been beneficial for us both." He touched me again, guiding me toward the captain's table.

**(=A=)**

Captain Picard's table was in a relatively secluded alcove. From it, he and his companions could see the stage – and be seen from it - but were largely obscured from the view of everyone else. His companions turned out to be just one person – Wesley's mother.

"Good evening, Captain, Doctor," Data said, approaching the table. I wanted to freeze in place, but I let him nudge me forward. "You remember Zoe Harris, sir," he added.

"Good evening, sir," I echoed Data's phrase because somehow 'hello' seemed inappropriate. "Doctor Crusher."

The doctor gave me a warm smile. "You were wonderful tonight, Zoe," she told me. "You, too, Data," she added.

"Thank you," I said. "I appreciate the opportunity."

The captain smiled at me, but it was the tight smile I would later learn he used when _he_ was nervous or uncomfortable. "I enjoyed the concert very much," he said. "Mr. Data, your own playing has improved since you began working with Miss Harris."

"Yes, sir," Data agreed. "I believe it has."

We chatted for a few more minutes, during which I was terrified that he would ask us to join them, but he didn't, only made polite conversation. Finally, he flashed me a brief smile that was much less stage-y than before. "Miss Harris, you are a credit to your teacher. Thank you for sharing your talent with us. I'm sure you'd rather spend the rest of your evening with your family and friends."

"Would it be incredibly bad manners to admit that you were right, sir?" I asked in my best wry tone.

He emitted a short bark of laughter. "Not at all. Mr. Data, please escort this delightful young woman back to her mother."

"Yes, sir," Data said.

"And Data?" the captain added.

"Sir?"

"Well done."

His eyes widened slightly, "Thank you, sir."

He escorted me back to my mother's table – T'vek and his family were still there – and apologized for pulling me away for so long.

"Do _you_ want to join _us_?" I asked him, mostly to be polite.

"I am afraid I have other duties to attend to," he said. "Do not forget to reclaim your cello and case from the conference room. Good night, Zoe – everyone." He walked off, and I focused my attention on the people I'd wanted to be with the whole night. "I'm so sorry," I said, settling into the open chair between my mother and T'vek. "Data never told me I had to meet people. Commander Riker says hello, by the way, Mom."

My mother's smile was affectionate and indulgent. "I suspect, Zoe, that you'll have to get used to such things if you intend to make any kind of career in the arts."

"I guess," I said

We lingered a while longer, but then the adults excused themselves. "Stevek will escort you to retrieve your belongings, and then walk you home," T'rella told me. "Please be certain you are both home no later than zero-two-hundred hours."

I glanced at my mother for confirmation, and she nodded and smiled. "Thank you," I said.

Tev and I waited for them to be long gone before we, too, left Ten-Forward. Then he looked at me, and asked, mimicking a Federation News Net reporter, "So, Miss Harris, how does it feel to be a celebrity?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "I'm not a celebrity," I said. "Not yet."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43961.74**

**(Sunday, 18 December 2366, 00:54 hours, ship's time)**

By the time T'vek and I picked up my cello and returned to the corridor leading to our quarters, it was almost one, and I was tired and hungry.

"Tev, I love you, but can we find a snack, please?"

"You never ate?" he asked.

"I had a protein shake before the concert, and then I had to meet people so I never got dessert or even a drink."

"I should have asked earlier," he said, obviously contrite. "I'm sorry. I was a little jealous."

I scoffed at that. "Jealous? Of what?"

"You spent a lot of time with Data tonight."

I shrugged. "I kind of had to. Anyway, he's my tutor, and my friend, and…" I sighed. "I don't even know why I'm making excuses. It was fun for the first few minutes, meeting all the senior officers, but I would much rather have been with you."

"Really?"

"Truly." I set my cello on the floor and stepped close to Tev so I could kiss him. "I love you," I said. "Even if you didn't comment on my outfit."

"I was busy imagining you out of it," he confessed. He pulled me close and tangled his fingers in my hair. "You have to wear it on Centaurus, just so I can see that."

"I'll consider it," I said, leaning into him. "You might have to bribe me with a hamburger, though."

"Lips that touch cow…"

"…have kissed you many, many times. I don't twit you for eating texturized vegetable protein or super-spicy pippali."

"Good point."

I yawned, then, and blushed because I had. "I'm sorry," I said. "It's been a very long, very strange day, and my performance-high is wearing off. I'll see you later?"

"Ten?" he suggested. "We could have a late breakfast together."

I shook my head. "Noon," I said. "Or two, even. I plan to sleep very, very late."

"Comm me when you wake up?"

"Definitely." I kissed him again, and then I picked up my cello, and went into the quarters I shared with my mother. She'd gone to bed, so I just locked the door, replicated another protein shake, and took the glass to my room. I forced myself to wash my face and change to a sleep-shirt before I settled into bed, but I fell asleep before I managed to finish the shake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As stated in an earlier chapter, Zoe & Data's duet is "Invitation to the Dance, Op. 65" by Carl Maria von Weber. The quartet plays Beethoven's Opus 59 #1 in F-major, the first of his three "Razumovsky Quartets." "Dona Nobis Pacem" is a traditional Latin chant. The quotation, "There's no such thing as a wrong note, as long as you're singing it," is from American folk singer and activist Pete Seeger.


	22. Moon Tide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe and T'vek go home to Centaurus for Christmas and her father's wedding. And things get cozy in the sand.

**Stardate 43971.16**

**(Wednesday, 21 December 2366, 11:25 AM, local time)**

**Capitol City, Centaurus**

The problem with space travel is that sometimes, it feels more like a math problem then a mode of transportation. For example: if it took three shuttles two days to get from the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ , which was patrolling the far reaches of Alpha Sector, to Centaurus (one of the three worlds collectively known as Alpha Centauri, though that's really the local daystar, and not the planet), in a different part of Alpha Sector, how much of that time did I spend making out with my incredibly sweet, devastatingly sexy, Vulcan-Betazoid boyfriend?

The answer? As much as possible, especially after said boyfriend 'graciously' gave up his private stateroom on the second shuttle in order to accommodate a single father with his young son. Overbooking will never go out of style.

On the other hand, that much togetherness, even for two people who are madly in love with each other (or think they are), gets a little overwhelming around day three. Translation: by the time we arrived at the Capitol City Spaceport on the world that I'd thought of as home for most of my life, we were both glad to be dirtside, and each of us was a little sick of the other's company.

"Dad!" I saw my father in the crowd of people meeting incoming travelers. We'd already cleared customs, so our luggage was with us.

"Zoetrope!" My father ran forward, and grabbed me in a huge hug. "Did you get taller? You look taller."

I laughed, mostly because I was seeing my real father and not the for-show version of him that I often referred to as 'The Zachary Harris Experience.' I hugged him back until breathing became an issue, and then I said. "I don't think so. Must be the boots." I gestured to the chunky-heeled ankle boots I was wearing, boots that gave me a good five centimeters of extra height. "Or," I teased, "maybe _you_ got shorter."

He mock-glowered at me, gave me his signature European-style kisses, and let me go, turning to my companion. "T'vek, isn't it?" my father asked.

My boyfriend met my father's eyes and shook his hand with a firm grip. "Thank you for having me, Maestro Harris," he said. He could ooze charm, when he felt like it.

"Zach," said my father. "You're family now, or close as may be. Just call me Zach."

"Thank you, sir," Tev said. He caught my eye and smirked ever-so-faintly. I just rolled my eyes in response.

"So, are you two hungry? Do you want to get some food before we head back to the house? What's your pleasure?"

I let bad Christmas music from the spaceport speaker system wash over me for about half a song. "Food would be good," I said. "Anything that doesn't come from a replicator, especially. But I'd be just as happy eating at home so we can hit the beach – there is time for that, right? Before the festivities begin?"

My father grinned at me. "I had a bet with your mother that you'd ask about the beach within ten minutes of arrival. She said you'd hold out for twenty."

"So, how much does she owe you?"

"Oh, thousands…" he joked, and I was pleased to realize that I could laugh with him. "Rehearsal dinner is tomorrow. Ceremony's on the 23rd. Gia and I will be spending that night in a hotel, but we'll be back to join you and your grandmother for a proper Christmas."

"What?" I teased. "No exotic honeymoon?"

My father grinned at me, the playboy grin that graced the news-nets and magazine covers. "There may be, but not 'til after the holidays. Gia insisted I spend time with you."

"Smart woman, that Gia."

"She actually is," my father began, but he stopped. "T'vek, I'm sorry, my Zoetrope starts spinning and I forget others are in the room. Do you surf?" He took control of our luggage cart as he brought my boyfriend back into the conversation.

T'vek shook his head, "I don't," he said. "I sailed a little, when we lived on Betazed, and I swim." He glanced at me, "Zoe promised to teach me while we're here."

Dad activated the anti-grav controls on the cart, and gave it a push, leading us out the doors and into the parking structure. Warm air wrapped itself around us, and I smiled slightly. "My daughter is half mermaid and half sailor. She'll keep you from drowning," my father assured. "What did you sail?"

I listened as my father and T'vek bonded over their first boats. Living on the coast - any coast - was remarkably similar, no matter what world that coastline inhabited. Kids on Centaurus, Earth, Tiburon, and Betazoid all grew up surfing and sailing and swimming, just like kids from Colorado and Alaska had the same experience of growing up on skis or skates that kids from similar climates on other worlds had.

Dad's flitter was only a short walk, and he and T'vek loaded the luggage as if they'd been operating as a team for years. I thought about claiming the front seat, but decided it would be better to give Tev the option. Family policy was that new people got treated like guests on their first night, but after that, there were no special favors. Even so, it made me smile when Tev brushed my hand and said, "Zoe, sit in front. You know you want to."

"Thanks," I said, hopping into the flitter. My father slid into the pilot's chair, and Tev sat behind us, but in the middle so he wouldn't be excluded from any conversation.

"How's the surf been?" I asked my father, once we were out of spaceport traffic and on our way home. We spent the rest of our half-hour journey discussing the condition of the surf, which beaches had the best swell at this time of year, and whether we should start T'vek on a short- or longboard.

Ten minutes away from home, Dad took the flitter into ground-mode, which meant that when I glimpsed the first red awning and the logo of a surfboard sticking out of a coffee mug, I could cry, "Stop!" and he could actually do so.

"What's wrong?" T'vek asked.

My father, however, knew what I'd seen, and was already fishing a digi-card out of his pocket. "Zoe has heard the siren call of her people," he told my boyfriend, and then, when he caught Tev's blank look in the rear-view mirror, he added. "Espresso bar."

"Dad, it's not just espresso. It's _Red Sands_. Anybody want anything?" I took the card from his hands and jumped out onto the sidewalk, breathing lovely salty air, and wondering if my parents had wagered on my zero-to-coffee time, as well.

I heard T'vek getting out of the flitter, behind me. "I have to see this," he said.

Together we walked through the red-painted door, and into my version of Nirvana: People in business suits and people who had obviously just come from the beach - some working on padds, some not - mingled with teenagers who were either heading out to go shopping or just finishing. An espresso machine hissed and hummed as shot after shot was pulled and pitcher after pitcher of milk (or any of a number of milk-alternatives) was frothed, foamed, or steamed, and happy baristas bantered with their customers, and behind it all was the gentle symphony of porcelain cups, tempered glasses, and silverware being clicked and clanked. To other people, it was just a café. To me, it was bliss.

"On any given world," I said, even though I really knew only two planets with any level of intimacy, "the beach is my favorite place. But Red Sands coffee? That's my second favorite place. Now, do you want anything?"

He was laughing at me, though. "How did I not see this coming?" he asked, wrapping his arm around me. Suddenly, the feeling of being tired of his company was gone. "Go forth and caffeinate," he said. "But if they do smoothies – "

"They do – "

"I'd like utteberry and peach."

I stepped up to the counter, greeted the vaguely familiar barista and placed our order – a double mocha for me, and Tev's smoothie, then handed over my father's card.

"Thank you for coming to Red Sands, Zoe, your order will be – wait – Zoe? You're back?"

The sandy-haired barista with the pukka-shell necklace stopped being vaguely familiar as recognition turned him into an old friend, "Kavan. Oh, god, you work here?"

"Yeah, since fall. Dad said I needed to learn responsibility. Who's your friend?"

"Boyfriend," I corrected. "T'vek Mairaj. From the _Enterprise._ Tev, this is Kavan. Kavan Meyer. We've known each other since forever."

"Hey, man," Kavan said, "Welcome to Centaurus. Do you surf?"

"Not yet," T'vek said.

"Zoe gonna teach you?"

Tev and I shared a look. "That's the plan," I said. "Hey, listen, we should totally catch up while I'm here. You still have my comm info, yeah?"

"Count on it," Kavan said handing over our drinks. "And hey, next time you're in here, drinks are on me."

"Stellar," I said. "Thanks." Drinks in hand, T'vek and I returned to the flitter.

"Mission accomplished?" my father asked.

"Yep. Also, did you know Kavan is working there?"

"Kavan…?"

"Kavan Meyer," I said. "Surfer Kavan."

"From that beach party." My father's tone grew distinctly more parental.

"Yeah," I said. "But also no. It was his party, but he's the one who protected me, not the one who… never mind." I interrupted myself. "It's all water under the bridge. So, how's Gia?"

For the rest of the ride home, I nursed my mocha in silence.

**(=A=)**

My father's beach house wasn't ostentatious, exactly, but it also wasn't the cute coastal bungalow most people called to mind upon hearing the phrase 'beach house.' It was, in fact, and almost perfect replica of his family's original beach house – a centuries-old nineteen-bedroom 'cottage' in a part of Earth called 'The Hamptons.'

This house was also over a century old, as my father's family – my family – was one of the founding families when Earth colonized the Alpha Centauri system. It didn't really have nineteen bedrooms, though, but a slightly less pompous eleven. Of course, five of those were in the family wing, and were actually suites – a bedroom and a sitting room. Each pair of suites (one on each side of the hallway, plus the master suite at the end) shared a bathroom that included a claw-foot tub, a separate shower stall fitted for both sonic and water, and the other typical accoutrements.

The guest wing was a little bit less spacious, but those six rooms were also done in pairs with adjoining bathrooms, they just weren't suites. My room was the furthest family suite from the master, on the side of the house that had a water view. We'd put Tev in the guest room furthest from the back stairs on the same side of the house. There were two mini-flights of stairs, a balcony, and several meters of hallway between us, but we were still closer than we'd ever been on the _Enterprise._

"You _live_ here?" T'vek asked as I showed him around the house. "I mean, really… you live _here_?"

I blushed. "Sometimes." I said. "Sometimes I stay at my grandmother's farm. Tev, it may be big, but it's just a house. Besides, it has to be big…Dad entertains a lot. Like, _a lot_ a lot."

We'd already eaten – Gia had arranged a really lovely alfresco lunch on the back patio overlooking the beach – but we'd only just gotten around to basic things like stowing luggage and showing off favorite rooms.

Gia came up behind us. "I know how you feel, T'vek," she said by way of a greeting. "But Zach – and all the rest of the family – are such genuine people, you'd never know they owned something like this." She turned to me, "Hello, Zoe. Welcome home."

I'd promised my father that I'd be polite, so I didn't snark about it being my home and not hers. Instead I said, "Hey, Gia. You look good," and gave her a perfunctory hug.

"So do you," she said, her smile becoming less nervous. "I'm glad you're here for this. It means a lot to your father." She hesitated before adding, "And to me. I'm sorry we don't know each other better."

Again, I bit my tongue to refrain from making a sarcastic comment. "So am I," I said. I could sense, more than see, the tension rolling off T'vek. He seemed really concerned that I would do something… untoward.

Gia seemed to feel the awkwardness of the moment as well. "I'll leave you two to get settled," she said. "I'm told the first night of vacation is always pizza night, so we'll see you in the den around eight. Is there anything you do or don't like on pizza?"

"No anchovies," I said. "Other than that I'm easy. Well, pizza-wise. Make sure one's meatless, please? Tev doesn't do dead animal flesh."

Gia chuckled slightly at that, which surprised me, as it wasn't really funny. "Got it," she said.

She left us in T'vek's room, and once she was out of earshot I asked my boyfriend, "Do you want some alone time, or do you want to hit the beach? It's barely one."

He hesitated. "Not that I don't love you, Zoe…" he began.

"How about we go our separate ways for an hour or two? I'm actually kind of tired, and wouldn't mind a nap. Besides, before we can go to the beach, I need to unpack a bathing suit or two."

His smile was both grateful and radiant. "Stellar," he said. He leaned close to kiss me. "I love you, I just need some downtime."

I kissed him back. "I know," I said. "Me, too – on both counts."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43970.64**

**(Wednesday, 21 December 2366, 6:50 PM, local time)**

Unable to sleep in the middle of the afternoon, and unwilling to hit the beach until I could bring T'vek there with me, I curled up with a book – those wizard children had moved on to their fifth year, which apparently involved a lot of CAPITAL LETTERS to signify shouting – until my father asked me to help with setting up dinner.

"What vids are we watching tonight?" I asked. "Or are we doing game night?"

"What's your preference?"

"Honestly, vids are probably better; Tev and I have been together almost constantly for the last two-and-a-half days and an activity where we don't have to talk much would be good."

"You're not fighting…?"

"No," I said, scanning the menu of available vids on the entertainment system. "Does Gia like horror?" I asked before returning to the original subject. "Just… you know… a little too much time with just the two of us."

"I see," my father said. "You know, Zoe, they say one sign of a relationship not lasting is the inability to be alone together." I wasn't sure if he was teasing me or making a dig at my relationship. "Gia likes thrillers, but prefers them cerebral rather than…"

"Gee, thanks, Dad. But we're in high school; not looking to get hitched." I snarked, deciding that he'd meant it as a dig. Then I added in a softer tone, "Mom thinks Tev is the perfect 'first boyfriend' for me. I know – I mean – I _know_ it's not forever." I added after a beat, "Okay, so no slasher films. How about a family-friendly rom-com?"

My father reached over and ruffled my hair. "That's my girl. So, tell me about this recital you were in. Commander Data arranged it?"

And for the next hour we talked about music, and how Data's theory tutorial had me playing better than any of my technique teachers ever did. Finally, I asked, "Can we play together, while I'm here? We haven't in forever. I miss it."

Dad finished punching in the pizza order, and I saw that his eyes were crinkled and misty, even though his smile was dazzlingly bright, "I'd love that," he said. "I thought you'd grown beyond playing with your old man."

I shrugged, and teased him. "Haven't you heard? Retro is in."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43972.76**

**(Thursday, 22 December 2366, 1:24 AM, local time)**

Late that night, I woke up to the sound of the crashing surf and the light of the nearly-full moon shining through my window. I'd apparently grown so accustomed to life on a starship that it hadn't occurred to me to close my blinds, but somehow, I didn't mind. I glanced at the time display on my nightstand: just after one, perfect.

I opened the window, and let cool salty air wash over my skin, and then I smiled up at the moon. Quickly, I traded the baggy t-shirt I'd worn to bed for a bathing suit, then pulled a pair of board shorts over that. I grabbed flip-flops, and a sweatshirt, carrying the former and tying the latter around my waist. Then, as quietly as I could, I left my room.

I needn't have worried. The door to the master suite was closed, and not a trace of light peeped through the cracks. Still, I stayed near the wall as I moved down the hall, avoided the one squeaky stair before the balcony, and the one squeaky board on the other side, and knocked softly on T'vek's door.

He was a little bleary-eyed, but seemed happy to see me. "Zoe..." he said. "You okay?"

"Mmhmm."

"Is this a booty call?"

"Nope. Not this time."

"Do you just get off on bothering people in the middle of the night?"

"Are you?" I asked in my best breathy seductress voice. "Bothered?"

"No, but I will be if you keep talking like that."

I grinned, "I came to ask you a question."

"Oh?"

"Have you ever been to the beach in the moonlight?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Wanna?"

"Now?"

I looked him over. "Change first. Bathing suit or shorts, but bring a sweatshirt, but otherwise, yeah, now."

"You're crazy."

"I'm not," I said. "I'm just extremely motivated to share this experience with you."

He laughed. "Okay. Five minutes." He started to close the door.

I blocked it, holding it open. "Can I watch?" I teased.

He laughed again. "Why not."

It's a miracle we ever left his bedroom, but we did, and I led him down the back stairway and into the kitchen, and then to the mud-room beyond that. "Towels are in the closet," I said. "Grab three." I pulled open another storage space and grabbed a couple of flashlights, checking to see if they had battery power. I dropped my shoes then, and slid my feet into them.

T'vek followed me out the mudroom door, across the back yard, and down the winding path to the beach below the house. The tide was high, and the surf was wild, and I thought it was the best thing ever. "The ocean here is crazy," he said. "The Opal Sea is never like this."

"Moon tide," I explained. "Plus it's a deep water, rocky coastline. Lay a towel down?" He did so, and I set the flashlights down, one on each end, digging into the sand to prop them up. I turned them on, and their beams cut through the darkness, illuminating a wide swath of sand. I kicked off the flip-flops and stepped out of my shorts. "Join me?" I invited, as my sweatshirt joined the pile of cast-off clothing. I took off toward the water, and was pleased to hear his footsteps and his breathing as he came up beside me.

The next thing I heard was "Surak's hairy green balls! This water is freezing." Tev was only knee deep in the surf, but it was likely enough, especially with his half-Vulcan biology.

"Well, yeah," I said, splashing over to him. "It's winter. And, okay, winter here isn't particularly cold or anything, but still…"

"You might have warned me."

"I assumed you knew." I peered at him in the moonlight. "Is it too cold? We could wait and get you a wetsuit…"

He shook his head. "Naah, I know how I can warm up later."

"I like the way you think."

Moon tides looked crazy rough, but they really weren't and unlike the oceans on Earth, we didn't have to worry about big fish trying to eat us as we splashed in the sea. Which we did, until we were salty and soaking wet, and silly from the cold and the starlight.

"You ready to go dry off?" I asked when I knew I'd had enough.

"Beyond ready," he told me.

He caught my hand and we ran back to our towels, laughing and shivering.

I picked up my towel and wrapped it around me, then set on the one we'd spread out. The flashlights had heat-lamp settings, and I switched mine to that. Tev followed my lead, scooting close to me, so both our towels were around both of us. I turned to ask if he'd enjoyed our little adventure, but when I did so, I saw his dark eyes glittering and I had to kiss him.

He kissed me back, and the mood shifted from playful innocence to something deeper, more primal. I darted my tongue out to taste the traces of seawater on his lips, and he opened his mouth, meeting me half way.

Long, slow, kisses gave way to salt-skinned caresses. I traced the lines of his neck, shoulders and chest with my fingers, and he found the knot that held my bikini top on, replacing the cool, slightly damp fabric with his warm, also slightly damp hands.

"More, please?" I asked as his fingers moved over my skin.

He kissed me again, murmuring, "Mmhmm," into the kiss.

We moved together, so that I was lying down, with some – or all, I couldn't really tell – of our dry clothes beneath my head. It felt like the moon was smiling down on us, and that the waves were providing background music. He straddled me, and I felt the bulge in the swim trunks he was wearing. "Tev?" I asked softly.

"You want to stop?" he asked, and I could have sworn he was holding his breath.

I hooked my fingers into the waistband of his trunks. "Not even close," I said. The trunks were soon cast aside, and he was peeling off the bottom of my bikini.

"Lift your hips," he said, drawing it off me.

Details began to blur after that. I know his body pressed against mind, the warm weight of him pushing me just a little more into the sand, and I was glad for the thick layer of cotton towel beneath me. He touched me everywhere, skin to skin, breath to breath.

"Zoe, are you sure?" his face was a mixture of desire and an attempt at restraint. "Are you really sure?"

"T'vek," I said, "I love you. I'm sure."

All the anatomy textbooks, health class teachers – even Doctor Crusher – had warned me to expect pain. I braced for the worst, but it really wasn't that bad. A push. A pinch. A little bit of stinging. And then we were joined in the most intimate way possible.

He checked again to see if I was okay.

I assured him I was.

He started to move inside me.

It was over too soon.

I'd read somewhere that it was good manners to show your lover that you appreciated their efforts, so when it was over, and he was next to me, pressed close, I whispered "Thank you."

He laughed, and I did too, but then he sobered. "You're not… it didn't hurt you?"

I shrugged against his chest. "A little, at the beginning. I was expecting worse." I blushed, glad my face was turned away. "I didn't mean that, that way."

"It's okay," he said. But then he added, "You didn't… you know… did you?"

I shook my head, realized he wouldn't be able to interpret it, and said softly. "No. But I wasn't exactly expecting to. I think the whole first-time-lovers-have-mutual-orgasms thing is pretty much limited to romance novels." Again, we laughed together.

"We'll figure it out," he said, and it sounded like a promise and a goal.

"Okay." I was pretty sure that we actually would.

We were both quiet a little longer, and then, as false dawn began to compete with the moonlight, he kissed my shoulder, and the back of my neck. "Zoe," he said softly. "I love you. Thank you, too."

I closed my eyes, and let myself just breathe for a while, and then I opened them. "I really have to pee," I said, and again, we both started laughing. I liked that we could laugh together.

We got up, dressing in the weird semi-darkness, pulling on our dry clothes, and wrapping our swimwear in the towels. Tev grabbed the flashlights, and I slid my sandy feet into my shoes. Neither of us had a free hand, but we kept accidentally-on-purpose bumping into each other as we walked back up to the house.

I dumped the towels into the laundry room, and reminded Tev to rinse his suit and hang it to dry. At the bottom of the stairs, he grabbed me, tangling his hands into my wet hair, and kissing me again. After we broke apart, I waited a good three minutes before following him up the stairs.

As I arrived at my door, the door to the master suite opened for a moment. "Zoe? Is that you?" I heard Gia's voice say.

"Yeah, sorry…couldn't sleep, was out on the deck for a while. I didn't disturb you, did I?" Well, we'd crossed the deck twice, so it wasn't technically a lie.

"I'm just… a little nervous," she admitted. "No worries. Get some sleep."

"You, too," I suggested.

I walked into my room, closed the door behind me, locked it, and then made a mad dash for the bathroom. After I answered nature's call, I washed my hands. I turned to leave the room, but caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, and paused to study it. My hair would be a mess in the morning, I knew, but, as far as I could tell, I didn't think I looked all that different.

I closed my blinds so sunrise wouldn't wake me before I wanted to be up, changed back into my t-shirt, and went back to bed, hoping no one would need me before ten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned for Zoe and T'vek to have their first time on a beach; they had other ideas. I actually hadn't planned to have it happen until after her father's wedding, which will be in the next chapter (or the one after it) unless these two kids hijack it the way they did this one.


	23. After - and Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe and Tev go to the rehearsal dinner for her father's wedding, and the Harris family expands a bit.

**Stardate 43973.52**

**(Thursday, 22 December 2366, 8:03 AM, local time)**

**Harris Beach House, Beach Haven, Centaurus**

If I'd been able to schedule my life the way I could schedule classes during the school year, I would have spent my first full day at my father's beach house staying in bed until ten, taking a luxurious hot-water shower, having a late breakfast on the patio overlooking the ocean, and then either spent the afternoon teaching my boyfriend – lover - wasn't he technically my lover now? – to surf. Then I would have gone for a mani-pedi with Gia, because, honestly, if I'd met her as just a person, instead of the woman my dad had chosen to replace my mother, I'd probably have liked her.

Not that I actively _dis_ liked her.

At the very least, I would have had time to check in with said boyfriend, and assure him that I was okay, and make sure that _he_ was okay, and maybe get some serious smooching in. Seriously, that boy was an amazing kisser.

Instead, I was roused at eight in the morning by the sound of the doorbell being rung repeatedly. I rolled out of bed and avoided the mirror, completely baffled as to why no one was answering the thing, then saw the note flashing on my padd: _Zoetrope, Gia and I are meeting her parents at the spaceport and taking them to breakfast. Hold down the fort, won't you? Thanks ever so…Dad._

Immediately, I pulled on the first clothing I could find, which turned out to be a Beach Haven Yacht Club sweatshirt and a pair of board shorts. I grabbed my flip-flops from the floor, and raced for the door, yelling, "Coming!" at the top of my lungs.

I almost tripped on the stairs, slamming into T'vek, coming from the other wing. "Morning," I said. "Door." I added.

"I heard," he said. "Can I help?"

"Can you make coffee?" I asked.

"Sadly, no."

"Why, exactly, do I love you?" I asked, teasingly, but I opened the door before he could answer, and flung myself at the person standing on the other side of it. "Uncle Zane!"

"Zoe-licious!"

My father's younger brother picked me up and swung me in a circle. "Hey, put me down, I'm not a kid anymore."

He returned me to the relative safety of the floor, and looked me over, waggling his eyebrows, "I should say not," he said. Then he noticed T'vek. "Who's the arm charm?"

I swallowed reflexively. "This is my boyfriend," I said, "T'vek Mairaj, meet my uncle, Zane Harris."

Tev offered his hand, human style, and my uncle shook it formally. "Lovely to meet you, T'vek," he said, earning a gold star from me when he added, "Isn't that the name of the pirate on that Betazoid show?" Trust my uncle to know the reference.

"It is," T'vek told him. "My given name is Stevek."

Zane offered my boyfriend the smile he reserved for people he liked. "I'd go with the piratical version, myself," he said. Then he clapped his hands together, "So, who's hungry? I've been living on ship- and hotel- food for six months and I'm desperate to mess around in a real kitchen."

I grinned, "I'm starved. I have no idea if Tev's eaten anything…?" I let the sentence trail off into a questioning tone.

"I have not," he said. "I'm hungry, too."

"Super," Zane said, "T'vek, why don't you come join me in the kitchen and we'll see what we can come up with. Zoe-darling, you look like you're desperate for a shower. Join us in twenty?"

"Should I be grateful for the chance to shower, or annoyed that you think I look like I need one?" I grumped, but I was teasing – mostly. "See you in twenty. Do _not_ tell any baby stories about me or ask T'vek personal questions while I'm gone."

My uncle grinned at me, the way he always did when he was about to get his way. "Would I do that?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said. "You totally would." I turned and fled for my room – and its lovely, lovely shower – before he could respond to that.

**(=A=)**

It was actually more like _thirty_ minutes before I joined T'vek and Zane in the kitchen, but they were only just finishing their preparations, so it wasn't like it mattered much. I smelled coffee and toast and something else. "Did you make a frittata?" I asked as I unhooked my favorite mug (it had my name on it) from the mug tree. "Tev, are you okay with eggs?"

"Eggs are not actual animals, merely potential ones," he said, sounding eerily like a certain gold-skinned math tutor we shared. "You know I eat dairy. It's just actual meat I have a problem with… and it's not even ethical; it's biological."

I cocked my head at him, studying him for a long moment. "How did I never know this?"

He shrugged, "It's never really come up. You usually make sure to order vegetarian dishes when we eat together."

"It would've been nice to know there was a little leeway in those orders," I said. "Anyway, it smells amazing. I feel spoiled."

"You should," my uncle said, joining the conversation as he returned from the patio. "Not every young woman has two devilishly handsome men cooking for her."

"Neither do I," I teased. "Seriously, Uncle Zane, it smells amazing,"

"Glad you think so. Leave the hideous mug here, and come to the patio; your feast awaits."

"My mug is _not_ hideous," I protested, though, in truth, it actually sort of was. It was this weird color that wasn't quite red and wasn't quite orange, and it had the Yacht Club logo on it, and my name, but somehow nothing seemed to work together. Still it was the perfect size for looping my hand through. That using it annoyed my fussy uncle, was just a bonus.

"Zoe, I'll grant you that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but does it make you blind as well?"

I put the mug back. "Fine," I said. "For _you_ , I will use some froufrou mug that matches all the dishes and has a way-too-small handle."

T'vek had been laughing at our entire exchange. "Zoe, I'll buy you a new mug, okay? One that has your name on it, but isn't an affront to all things art and design-related."

"I'm holding you to that," I said.

He kissed me. "I know you will."

**(=A=)**

All through breakfast, I could feel my uncle watching T'vek and me, gauging our body language, cataloguing the number of times we touched or made eye contact.

When we'd finally finished the meal, and I got up to clear the table, my uncle said, "Zoe, sit back down a minute."

Zane had always been more like a big brother than an adjunct parent, but I recognized his serious tone, and returned to my seat. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head, "Not necessarily wrong, just… do your parents know you two are sleeping together?"

I glanced at Tev before I answered. "What makes you think we are?"

"C'mon, Zoe, this is me. The one who proved to you that there weren't monsters in the closet. The one who made sure you never had to see it when your dad had… friends… over while your mom was away…"

"…until I did," I said softly.

"Yeah," he said. "The point is, kiddo, you and me – we don't lie to each other, and we don't keep secrets."

"It happened last night," T'vek said, interrupting us both.

"Tev…"

"No, Zoe. It's cool. Your uncle's cool. Would've liked it if you'd told me he was the lead singer of the Federation's best indie band before I'd asked if he'd heard their music, but… we can trust him." He softened his voice, adding, "I can tell."

So he had done a little observation, when they'd touched. Surface thoughts, he'd told me. Just surface thoughts. Suddenly I wondered how much of that was true. Then I put the thought out of my head, because he'd also said that where I was concerned everything else he felt overwhelmed even the surface thoughts.

I looked back at my uncle. "Mom knows we were on this path. She was hoping we'd wait, but, yeah, it happened last night."

My uncle bit his lip, the way he sometimes did when he was about to tread into uncertain personal territory. "You were… careful, though, right?" he asked. "You used…"

"Birth control? Yeah, we're good. We're both clean, we're both protected." I heard myself getting snippy, and took a breath. "Are we that obvious?" I asked softly, even as I reached for Tev's hand.

"Yes and no. My mother will be able to tell. Your father… well, he's wrapped up in wedding stuff right now, and he's never been one to notice the subtle stuff anyway."

"True," I said.

"I _should_ tell you to stop. I _should_ tell you that you're both too young and you should let yourselves be kids while you can. I _should_ tell you a lot of things, but I'm not going to. Instead, I'm just going to remind you that just because you've done it once, doesn't mean you have to keep doing it. And… be good to each other. Teen romances never last; try to remember that you're friends first, and you can probably manage to stay friends, after." He pushed his chair away from the table and stood up.

I stood up again, too, not to clear the table but to give my uncle a really big hug. "I love you," I told him. "You're the best uncle ever."

"Yeah," he said. "I am. Now be the best niece and clean this mess up."

I shook my head at him, but couldn't hide my grin. "I should've known I'd get stuck doing the dishes."

Uncle Zane laughed. "Yeah, I was pretty amazed you fell for that."

"I'll help," T'vek said.

"Thanks," I said.

My uncle left us to clean up, but re-appeared a few minutes later. "One more thing," he began.

"Plastics?" I asked, referring to an ancient film we'd watched together once.

He chuckled. "Nice, Zoe. But no. I just wanted to let you know – let you _both_ know – that if you need someone to talk to…"

"You're here for us?" I asked, finishing his thought for him.

"Something like that, yes."

"Cool," I said, at the same time Tev said, "Stellar."

**(=A=)**

I never actually accused my uncle of intentionally separating me from T'vek for the rest of the day, but as soon as the breakfast dishes were done, and the kitchen put back in order, I was put in charge of sorting out family as they arrived.

Dad and Gia had decided a small wedding was best, and the people who did arrive at the house were mostly there to check in and see what needed to be done. Well, most of them. Uncle Zane, my cousin Vanessa, and Gia's parents and one sister were all staying with us, and each of them had a problem to be solved. Zane needed a humidifier in his room to keep his throat healthy. Vanessa was annoyed that she'd been moved to the guest wing, sharing a bathroom with Gia's younger sister. Her brother was sharing T'vek's bathroom, and asked for more towels.

Gia's older sister was staying at a local hotel with her husband and their children, but wondered if we could possibly lend them some toys and games to play with. Her parents were in one of the suites in the family wing of the house, and wondered if we had heating pads for their old bones (their words).

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43974.44**

**(Thursday, 22 December 2366, 4:07 PM, local time)**

While I was feeling as though I'd been dragged into an alternate universe where I was the daughter of an innkeeper (would that make Tev the highwayman in the moonlight?), my boyfriend had also been pressed into service, setting up tables and a sound system, and even constructing an arbor for the bridal party to pose under, since the reception was being held at home.

Our paths did cross, of course, but by four in the afternoon, we were both tired and cross, and we still had to change for the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner.

I caught my father, reminded him that I might be family, but Tev was a guest, and demanded he let us off to rest and bathe before we were needed again. He agreed, reminding us to be ready to leave for the rehearsal two hours later.

"I don't know about you," I said to T'vek as we climbed the stairs with considerably less energy than either of us had had a few hours before, "but I need to nap for an hour before I even think about putting on dressy clothes."

"Agreed," he said.

At the top of the stairs, I stopped and looked at him. "I've barely seen you since breakfast, and the next two days are going to be crazy with family and wedding and then there's Christmas. Wanna come nap in my room."

He gave me a soft, slow, smile. "Just nap?" he asked.

"Yeah, probably," I said. "I really am tired."

"That's fair," he said. "And there's time, anyway."

"Oodles."

He walked with me to my room, took in my unmade bed, and arched an eyebrow at me. I shrugged, and kicked off my shoes, then peeled off the jeans I'd been wearing all day. I took my bra off, too, without taking off my t-shirt, and then I climbed into my bed. Even rumpled, the cotton sheets were soft and soothing.

Tev followed my lead, removing just enough clothing to be comfortable, and he snuggled in beside me. "Set an alarm," he reminded me, and I did, giving us ninety minutes. I don't know if he fell asleep, but I know that I didn't wake until the alarm insisted that I had to.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43974.71**

**(Thursday, 22 December 2366, 6:30 PM, local time)**

By six-thirty that evening, Dad, Gia, T'vek, and the rest of the immediate family and I were assembled in the local Episcopal church, waiting for Mother Rodriguez. Better known to the younger generation – my generation - of Beach Havenites as Mother Ixchel, she had been the parish priest at Saint Alban's by the Sea since before I'd been born. Her once-jet black hair was starting to grey a little, but she was still the same woman I remembered: strong, warm, and vibrant, with an amused twinkle in her eyes much of the time.

"Zach, Gia – welcome," she said as she glided into the sanctuary. "Zane," she added, with a hint of a warning to my uncle. He'd been quite the trouble-maker in his day. "And Zoe, you look so grown up. Welcome home." She extended her welcomes to Gia's parents and family, greeted T'vek as if they'd known each other for years, instead of about a minute, and then looked around wondering, "Where's Irene?"

"Here I am," came my grandmother's sing-song announcement, as if on cue. "Hold everything until I see my granddaughter!"

I turned in the direction of her bell-like voice, and ended up meeting her half-way down the aisle. "Oh, my darling girl, I've missed you," she said gathering me into a life-threatening hug.

"Breathing," I choked out, "I'd like to do some," I added as her hold on me loosened somewhat. After a couple of breaths, I added, "I missed you, too, Gran."

"As well you should," she admonished, though her tone was warm with good humor. "Give your old Gran a kiss on the cheek and introduce me to The Boy, and I might forgive you for being home a whole day without coming to see me."

I did as I was told, kissing her, and then stepping back so I could beckon T'vek to join us. "Gran – Ms. Harris – this is T'vek Mairaj," I said. "Tev, this is…Gran."

T'vek offered her his hand, but she pushed it away, pulling him into a brief hug. "I've heard a lot about you," she said. "Call me Irene."

"It's good to finally meet you… Irene…" he said a bit uncertainly.

She rang her delighted laughter to the rafters. "You as well, m' boy. Zoe's letters are full of you. You and Commander Data in equal measures, but at least I get to meet the boy who's got my favorite girl so dazzled."

"Gran!" I protested, blushing.

"Irene…" Mother Ixchel interrupted the introductions.

"Yes, what?" my grandmother put on a mask of irritation.

"The rehearsal…?"

"Can't you see I'm greeting my granddaughter and her young man?" the older woman asked, but we all knew she was mostly teasing. "Oh, very well, I suppose if we get rehearsal out of the way we can move on to dinner sooner." She left T'vek and me and went to exchange much briefer greetings with everyone else.

"If we're all ready," Mother Ixchel began, her tone more than a little pointed, "let's begin."

And so we walked through the basic, simple ceremony. Gia's family was neo-progressive Catholic, but she was a bit of a traditionalist, so they had decided not to use their own vows. Her older sister was the matron of honor, and was doing the first reading. Uncle Zane was doing the second.

As for me, I'd been 'volunteered' to lead the prayers of the people, the responsorial prayers for the travelers and the family and the Federation, the planet, the People, and for peace and all that. I'd led it before, and didn't mind.

I _did_ mind, at least a little, when I found out that Vanessa and I had also been 'volunteered' to sing during the service. It was only "Amazing Grace," so it wasn't like we didn't know it, but we'd had no rehearsal time.

"Why do I get the feeling you didn't know you were singing?" she asked me as we moved to stand near the piano.

"Because I didn't," I said. "I would have had my voice teacher on the _Enterprise_ work with me, if I'd known."

"Is that the android your letters always mention?" she asked.

"Data? No. He's my math tutor, and he's been helping me with an AP music theory class. And he's… kind of a friend, I guess. My voice teacher is actually an astrophysicist, Lucy Caldwell's younger sister, actually."

"Lorna, isn't it?" she asked. "Everyone was so surprised when she chose Starfleet over music."

"She still does music," I said, "just, you know, not as a profession. And she's going by her middle name now. Jesse."

"Well, really, can you blame her?"

Our conversation came to an abrupt end when Mother Ixchel insisted that we sing the song through a second time.

Finally, we'd rehearsed the entire ceremony twice, and Mother Ixchel released us with the reminder to be kind to each other during this time of stress and joy.

"You're joining us for dinner, aren't you?" my father asked her before she could glide away. She always glided, and I'd always wondered if it was just a personal trait, or a skill they taught at seminary.

"I'll meet you at the restaurant in fifteen minutes," she told him.

**(=A=)**

We left the church and reassembled at Pescatore's a local Italian restaurant that specialized in seafood, though their menu was fairly extensive. Gia's parents – Antonio and Nunzia – had chosen it, and made the rehearsal dinner their gift to their daughter and my father, since Dad was paying for the wedding.

Gia, having learned a lot about event planning even though that wasn't really her job as orchestra archivist, had arranged for one large round table, instead of a rectangular one, so that everyone could see each other, and conversations would be easier. I sat with T'vek on one side of me, and Gia's brother, an attorney, on the other.

After we ordered, I did my duty as daughter of the groom, and engaged him in conversation, re-introducing myself, and asking, "I'm sorry, I don't think I remember your name, but I know you're a lawyer. What kind of law do you practice?"

"It's Nick," he said with an easy grin. "Actually, I work for a non-profit," he said. "We do a lot of work with immigrants from non-aligned worlds, and with people from planets that are new to the Federation."

"So, mostly civil rights stuff?" I asked, intrigued.

"Yes," he said. "And social justice. Actually, Gia was helping me organize a benefit for a children's aid group after those lethal tremors on Artemia."

"I remember reading about those," I said. I didn't mention that I'd been on the _Enterprise,_ when it had gone to render first-response aid, or that my math tutor was part of the team that helped stabilize the weather net after the tectonic activity had rendered it inoperable.

"Well, Gia was helping me out with details, and contacted your father – he ended up hiring her, and then… well, you know the rest."

"I hadn't realized she wasn't just a music student," I said.

"Oh, no, she's actually not that musical at all," Nick explained. "She's an organizational specialist."

I raised my eyebrows at that. "Interesting," I said. "So, what's the name of your non-profit?"

He told me, and then added, "You know, we often invite high school juniors and seniors to come and intern with us."

"That would be really educational," I said, "and if I were a junior or senior, I'd probably be begging you for more information, but I'm only half-way through my sophomore year, and I'm pretty focused on the arts right now."

"Keep it in mind for next year," he told me. "We're working with several universities around the Federation on the development of some new programs that combine different disciplines with pre-law and social justice coursework. The arts are often the best way to really break the ice with new citizens."

"I promise to think about it," I said, and it wasn't just lip-service. I actually meant it.

The rest of the dinner included lots of different conversations, family stories from both sides, and a lot of joking and laughter. Finally, though, my father stood up, tapping his knife against his glass to request silence.

"Dear family, Gia and I just wanted to take a moment and thank all of you for being here to participate in our wedding. We're so grateful to all of you for being here. If there isn't time for us to tell you tomorrow, please know that we welcome all of you into both our families."

"Here, here," called Gia's father. "The more the merrier."

Everyone laughed, but my father signaled for us to be quiet again, and we responded. "Before we all go home to get our beauty rest – though I think I need it more than my lovely bride does – I'd like to ask Mother Rodriguez to offer a closing prayer."

Mother Ixchel stood up, and invited us to join her. "I would invite you all to join hands," she said, offering her own to T'vek on one side, and my grandmother on the other. "As we have people of varying faiths among us, I would simply remind you that 'to pray,' means only 'to ask.' Whether we are asking God, or merely sending our prayers into the universe, the intent is the same. Tonight, then, let us ask for joy, for love, and for peace, for this new couple, for all their friends and family, assembled here and elsewhere in the cosmos, and for all people wherever they may be."

Many murmured 'amens' greeted her words, and then we all dropped hands, and the party broke up.

**(=A=)**

It was only a few blocks from the restaurant back to the house – the joy of living in a beach town – and T'vek and I decided to walk back.

"Are you sure?" my father asked.

"Zach, they're teenagers. Let them have some alone time," Gia told him.

My uncle was busy chatting with Vanessa and Gia's younger sister, whose name kept going out of my head, or I'm sure he'd have offered to 'chaperone' us. I used the opportunity to hug my grandmother, and then promised my father, "We won't be late, and I know the entry code."

"Okay, then," he said. "Be careful."

"I promise to take care of her, Mr. Harris," T'vek said.

"It's Zach," my father and I corrected him together. Dad continued, "And she's pretty resourceful. Watch out for each other, yes?"

"That would be our cue," I told my boyfriend, taking his hand. He grinned, thanked Gia's father for dinner, and let me lead him out the door. Once we were away from everyone, I asked him, "So, how awful was it? I heard you in deep conversation with Mother Ixchel."

"It was actually pretty interesting. We were comparing her faith to Betazoid and Vulcan spirituality."

"Really?"

"Really. And then we got on to the architecture and art of each culture. You seemed pretty into your conversation."

"Yeah, Gia's brother does civil rights and social justice work. It was also really interesting. He mentioned that his law firm is working with universities on some interdisciplinary programs."

We took the shortcut home, the one that went through the park, but we didn't linger on the benches or swings. We didn't need to. It was nice just to be in the fresh night air, holding hands. About a block from the house, Tev asked me softly, "How come I've never heard you sing before?"

"You have," I said, automatically.

"No," he said. "I haven't, not before tonight."

I stared at him, certain he must be wrong, but then I realized he wasn't. I hadn't been doing much singing at all since my arrival on the _Enterprise_ , only in my voice lessons, and a few times of singing melodies back to Data when I couldn't grasp a concept. "I didn't realize," I said.

"You don't suck."

"Gee, thanks."

"No, I mean…." He stopped walking. "You and your cousin…?"

"Vanessa…"

"…Vanessa… sounded really good. Like, professional. I mean, I knew you were taking lessons, but…"

"But you've only ever heard me play the cello?"

"Yes."

"I wasn't hiding it. I mean… I'm never going to be an opera diva or a pop star. But… I told you I'd done musicals."

"Yeah."

"I didn't know _you_ made sculpture, until that day in the arboretum." Pointing it out felt almost obligatory, but at the same time I had to wonder: _what did it say about me, about Tev, that we'd shared sex more easily than we'd shared the arts we loved?_

"Fair point."

"You don't suck, either, you know. With your art."

"I wasn't sure you liked it."

"T'vek…are you kidding? I loved it."

"So, if I asked you to sing for me…?"

"Now?"

"Not _now_ , no. It's in the middle of the night, in a city park. But… sometime?"

"Sure," I said. "I guess."

We started walking again, but after a moment he asked another question. "Zoe…?"

"T'vek…?" I imitated his tone, in an attempt to keep things light. He squeezed my hand.

"Last night… are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm sure," I said. "I'm really sure."

"Do you want to… I mean your uncle said…"

_I_ stopped our forward momentum that time. "T'vek Mairaj, I assure you I have _no_ regrets about last night, and it's scaring me a little that _you_ suddenly do."

He shrugged, and I saw a flash of his dark eyes in the starlight. "On the _Enterprise_ , even though we see people – go to class, see our friends, and stuff – it's like we're sheltered from the universe. Like it's not quite real. Here, with all the wedding stuff, and your family, and… everything. It's a little bit much."

"How about we agree not to worry about it 'til after the wedding, then?" I suggested. "No pressure. No stress. Just… we'll go to my Dad's wedding, and we'll dance at the reception, and after that, we'll just see what the next day brings."

"Wait, I have to dance…?"

"Sadly, it's too late for me to ask Sven, now."

He pulled me close to him, kissed me, and held me for a long moment. Then we continued the walk home, still holding hands.

We parted ways at the top of the stairs, but not before he kissed me again, and asked, whispering into my hair. "Hey, Zoe… is there really a Sven?"

I laughed, and kissed him. "Maybe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No specific music notes. "Amazing Grace" is a traditional hymn in many faiths.


	24. On My Father's Wedding Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zach & Gia get married. Zoe and T'vek dance. And on the news, a colony is attacked by some cube-shaped spaceship.

**Stardate 43977.08**

**(Friday, 23 December 2366, 3:15 PM, local time)**

**St. Alban's by the Sea, Beach Haven, Centaurus**

The church smelled of sea air and pine boughs, the latter because the church had been greened for Christmas. Somehow, it seemed as though the seasonal décor was as much for the wedding as it was for the annual high holiday.

Just inside the vestibule, I stood still for a long moment, just breathing in that heady combination. For about two minutes, I was seven years old again, rehearsing "Silent Night" with the children's choir, but then Gia's older sister – her matron of honor – came up behind me and broke the spell.

"Zoe? Have you got a minute?"

I turned around, and gave Eliana my sunniest smile. "Sure thing," I said, "what's up?"

"My sister is asking for you. Says she _needs_ to talk to you. I told her you were probably rehearsing or something, but…"

"No, it's fine," I said. "Vanessa and I worked on the song at the house this morning, and I'm already dressed. Is everything okay?"

Eliana shrugged. "I have no idea. One minute she's babbling about how wonderful everything is, and the next she's panicking over everything not being perfect. I swear, I would never have agreed to do this if I'd known she would be so… dithery."

"What were you like, at your wedding?" I asked, as we crossed the sanctuary, and ducked into the back hallway that led to the changing rooms. My father, Zane, and T'vek were hiding in the one that had been designated for the groom, and I was a little envious. I'd much rather have hung out with the boys than be subjected to as much primping and posing as I knew was going on in Bride Central.

"David and I eloped," she said. "He's not religious, and we were off-world working with the Corps." Eliana's husband, I'd learned, was part of the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. She herself had been working as a volunteer, on sabbatical from her professorship at University of Phoenix, Mars Campus, when they'd met. "If you and your Vulcan friend ever marry, you should consider the same. It's easier on everyone."

I wasn't sure how to answer that, or even if I should. Sure, Tev and I loved each other, but even I knew it was silly to expect to actually marry your high school sweetheart. I settled for a mostly neutral, "I'll take that under advisement."

"Oh," she said, stopping in the middle of the hallway. "I'm sorry; I forgot what it's like to be in the first blush of young love. Didn't mean to burst any bubbles."

"You didn't," I said. "Really, it's cool."

She nodded, and then opened the door to the room where Gia was. "Good luck."

The bride was sitting in a wing chair, with a smock over her dress. Her mother, Nunzia, smiled at me when I entered the room, making the too-solid sound of the door closing seem slightly less ominous. She was sitting on an ottoman, coaxing her daughter to eat.

"I'm told my presence was requested," I greeted, keeping my tone as light as I could.

"Yes, thank you." Gia said. "Mamma, could you give us a minute?"

_"Certo, mio cara figlia,"_ her mother answered in Italian, as she stood up. To me, she said, "See if you can get her to eat a sandwich? Brides never manage to eat when everyone else does, and then they faint. It's never good."

"Mamma…" Gia said it with a warning in her tone.

"Yes, I'm going, I'm going."

This time when the door closed, I was left alone with my almost-stepmother. "So, is this the part where you tell me that you're in charge, and that if I cater to your every whim, you won't try to ruin the relationship I have with my father?"

Her brittle, stressed smile softened into something much more natural. "Would that even work?"

I dragged over the straight-backed chair from the vanity. "Not a chance," I said. "Besides, if Nick and Eliana are anything to judge by, you're kind of… not so bad."

She laughed at that, well, chuckled softly. "'Kind of not so bad,'" she repeated. "It's a start, I guess."

"Well…"

"Oh, don't backpedal now," she said. She picked up one of the finger sandwiches from the tray, grimaced at it, and put it down. "This is actually the part," she said, and her tone was both serious and sincere, "where I tell you that I don't want to replace your mother, but that I'd really like us to be friends."

"You called me in here less than an hour before your wedding for _that_?" I asked.

"It's important," she began, and then rephrased, " _I feel_ it's important that we start off on the right foot. We don't know each other very well, and your father didn't handle things _at all_ well…"

"Understatement of the year," I said cutting her off. "Though, he did try to make it up to me."

"Yes," she agreed. "I saw the credit account statements."

"I might have milked it a little," I admitted.

"A little…?"

"Well, I still don't have a pony."

"I thought you were lobbying for a flitter…"

"About that…"

This time she cut me off. "Zoe, please… I need… I need to know that you don't hate me, and that we can be friends."

A small, petty part of me wanted to tell her it could never happen. A small, petty, bitter part of me wanted to slice into her with a truly sharp reply about how she'd wrecked our family, or something. The bigger part of me, however, listened to the inner voice of reason, which, oddly, sounded a lot like Data, reminding me that my relationship with Dad had begun to improve since Gia had been on the scene.

I was quiet for a full minute, and then some. Finally, I said. "I don't hate you. I think, actually, you've been good for my father. As to being friends… we don't know each other very well, yet, but I'm not going to put arsenic in your tea or strychnine in the sugar bowl, or anything."

"Is that a 'yes?'"

"It's an 'I'd like to try,'" I said, not quite ready to commit.

"I'll take it," she said, and then, after a beat she added, "Want a sandwich?"

**(=A=)**

The wedding itself was both simple and lovely. T'vek and I sat with my grandmother and Vanessa in the front row of the groom's side of the church. My father and uncle both looked dashing in their tuxedos. Both of Gia's parents escorted her down the aisle, and she looked fresh and relaxed, as did Eliana.

The readings were done with no one stumbling on words, and for the first time when I uttered the words in the prayers of the people about people who were traveling 'in the air, on land or sea, or through space' it wasn't only my mother whose name came to mind, but Data's, and Geordi's, my classmates from the ship, their parents, and even the captain. Who'd have thought?

Vanessa and I managed "Amazing Grace" without either of us getting choked up, though I was really glad I'd opted for a brand of mascara that was both clear and waterproof.

Finally, Mother Ixchel pronounced my father and Gia married, and we all followed them out of the church. I noticed a few reporters among the folks taking pictures, but since my father didn't seem bothered, I chose not to be, either. He and Gia posed for the paparazzi together, and with various configurations of the bridal party and immediate family. Finally, he pulled me over and said, "One more, Gia and me with my lovely daughter, Zoe."

Camera flashes, I decided at that point, must have been invented in hell.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43977.28**

**(Friday, 23 December 2366, 5:01 PM, local time)**

**Harris Beach House, Beach Haven, Centaurus**

If the wedding had been simple, quiet, and tasteful, Dad's wedding reception was an all-out party. Sure, it had begun with formal introductions of the wedding party and family. Sure, there had been more posed pictures under the arbor that T'vek and my uncle Zane had constructed the previous day – actually, there was a shot of T'vek and me that I really wanted copies of – but once the formalities had been observed, there was music and dancing and food and liquor.

Lots of liquor.

And lots of dancing.

Dad and Gia, of course, started the dancing, and then separated, so he could dance with her mother, and then my Gran. When Gia danced with her father, Dad caught me by the arm, and waltzed me onto the floor. "I heard you and Gia had a chat today," he said.

"I didn't do anything wrong," I protested out of habit.

"Actually, I was going to compliment you on being gracious and mature these past few days."

"Well…"

"Learn to accept compliments, daughter-of-mine," he said softly. "I suspect you'll be getting a lot of them as you grow older."

"Flatterer," I teased.

"Father," he said, correcting me, but his eyes were serious, even if his tone was not, and he added, "Your android friend – "

" _Data_ ," I corrected. It annoyed me, the number of people that referred to him by what he was and not by his name. "You know he's a decorated hero of the Federation, don't you? And that he outranks Mom?"

"Yes, fine darling, Data – sent me a recording of your concert."

"Oh?"

"You've improved a lot."

"Yeah," I said, as he spun me under his arm, "I have."

"The duet you two played… you had a real connection."

"Did we?" I asked. "We rehearsed it a lot, I guess."

"You can't rehearse a connection like that."

"Data's my tutor, Dad. I mean, he's my friend, but he's my friend the way adults are with kids, you know?" Which wasn't quite true, but wasn't quite not-true either.

"He challenges you."

That got my attention. "Musically, you mean?"

"Sure," he said. "Why not?" It wasn't a question, really. "I suspect he challenges you in other ways as well."

"Dad, right now the person challenging me, is you." I wanted to press him for more, but it was his wedding reception, and the song was over, and I hadn't really danced with T'vek yet. I kissed him on the cheek. "Love you, Dad," I said.

"Love you, too, darling girl," he answered, and pressed his own lips to my forehead. "Go dance with T'vek before he gets lost in the crowd."

My uncle Zane dragged me into a dance before I had a chance to even process the conversation with my father, or find T'vek, and then I danced with Gia's brother Nick, as well. He was a good dancer, actually, but not chatty, which was fine. He did ask for my comm address, though, probably to keep me informed about internships.

After that, I finally managed to leave the dance floor and track down my boyfriend.

I found T'vek seated on the stairs massaging his temples, and I sat down next to him, ignoring the fact that we were now blocking access to the second floor. Well, there was no one who needed access to the bedrooms, anyway. "You okay?" I asked him.

"Too many people," he said softly. "My head hurts."

"I'm sorry," I said. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

He started to shakes his head, then stopped himself, wincing. "No, you're fine. I just… dancing involves a lot of touching, and…"

"I thought you said you only caught surface thoughts with contact and concentration?" I asked.

"Usually that's true," he said. After a beat he added, "Weddings and funerals involve a lot of intense emotion. People practically broadcast things they normally wouldn't."

"And the alcohol probably doesn't help…"

"No." He frowned slightly. "You wanted to dance, though."

"I did, with Dad, and Zane and a couple of other people. I really wanted to dance with _you_." I grinned and gestured to the dress I was wearing and to his tux. "I mean seriously, how hot are we tonight? But if you're not up to it, it's okay. And frankly, I'd rather sit here not-dancing with you than go dance with Dad's orchestra members. The first trumpet player keeps leering at me, and it's getting creepy."

The music changed from a fast swing number to another waltz, and Tev lifted his head. "I know this one," he said. "They play it at shipboard events all the time."

I listened for a moment. "Yeah, it's always the song they play at official functions."

"Would you officially like to dance with me?" Tev asked, his face suddenly less strained.

"But you said…"

"I said the party was overwhelming. But you're not. And we can hear the music just fine, here." He stood up, and walked to the middle of the hallway, sketching a bow, "Ms. Harris, would you do me the honor?"

I forced myself not to giggle, and followed his lead, rising as well, and even offering an awkward curtsey. "Why, Mr. Mairaj, I'd be delighted."

And so we waltzed in the hallway, just the two of us, and when the music shifted again, to more contemporary, slower tune, we continued to dance, until we weren't actually dancing any more, but kissing – making out, even.

"Seriously, you two, get a room." My cousin Vanessa interrupted us.

"We have one," I said. "Actually we have two, if you want to be picky about it."

"Whatever," she said. "Look, they're about to do cake and champagne, and you are conspicuously absent."

"We'll be right in," I said, moving slightly away from T'vek, but keeping hold of his hand.

"Fix your lipstick first," she said. "I'll stall."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43978.10**

**(Saturday, 24 December 2366, 12:09 AM, local time)**

The cake was sliced, and champagne was served. Since the reception was at home, even T'vek and I got some of the latter, though he only sipped his during the toast. Finally, Dad and Gia took off for the hotel where they'd be spending the night – their real honeymoon would happen after the holidays and my birthday – and reminded us that we were all to meet at the yacht club for brunch the next day.

Guests began to depart, and the hired catering company began cleaning up the party mess, while Zane, Vanessa, T'vek and I sorted through gifts, making sure there was a list of whom had sent what. It would make it easier for Dad and Gia to send thank-you notes after the holidays.

Nick, Antonio, and Nunzia had also pitched in, and were dividing the flowers into small bouquets to be delivered to the local senior care center in the morning. Gia's other sister, whose name, I'd finally managed to learn, was Cora, had gone with Eliana and David to their hotel, to spend time with her nieces and nephews.

Around midnight, the seven of us were finally finished with our chosen tasks. "Is anyone hungry?" Nick asked.

"I could eat," I said.

"Me, too," T'vek added, and everyone else agreed.

"The pizza place delivers 'til two am," Vanessa pointed out, "or we could raid the refrigerator for leftovers."

"Pizza," T'vek and I said together. I continued, adding, "You can't get delivery pizza on a starship, and the replicated stuff tastes like plastic and cardboard more often than not."

"Zoe thinks there's something magical in the pizza _box_ that makes delivery pizza taste so good," Tev shared, teasing me and making everyone else chuckle.

"She may be right," Nunzia said. "I know I always like it better delivered than eaten at a restaurant. If you don't mind two old people eating with you, Tony and I will buy."

"I'll order," I said, "what does everyone like?"

And so we sat up for another two hours, eating pizza in the kitchen, and getting to know each other even better. When we'd all eaten our fill, we put the leftovers away, and went to our separate beds. I could tell T'vek wanted more than just the goodnight kiss I gave him but my uncle was hovering on the landing, and I didn't want to give him cause to tell my father exactly what my relationship with my boyfriend really was.

"Love you," I said to Tev. "See you in the morning."

"G'night, Zoe."

We'd been so caught up in wedding stuff, I'm not sure any of us realized it was Christmas Eve.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43979.16**

**(Saturday, 24 December 2366, 9:30 AM, local time)**

**Beach Haven Yacht Club, Beach Haven, Centaurus**

Much like the rehearsal dinner had been, the post-wedding brunch was loose and informal. The yacht club didn't have huge tables so we pretty much sat where we wanted at small round tables in the private dining room. Tev and I ended up with Nick and my Gran, and had a really great conversation.

When the main meal had ended, and coffee was served, Zane asked if we minded having the monitors turned on so he could catch sports scores – his favorite soccer team was playing in the sector finals. No one minded, and screens flashed to life in the corners of the room.

We didn't get the sports scores right away, though. Instead, there was an FNN reporter breaking into the game with a news bulletin:

_"Jouret IV is as far from Earth as one can go without leaving Federation space,"_ the woman was saying. _"It has little strategic value, and has enough resources only to support its own population, though it's a popular retreat destination, for those in religious orders. Three days ago, Providence Colony, the first human settlement there, broadcast a planetary distress message, and activated an emergency beacon. Starfleet has dispatched the_ U.S.S. Enterprise _to investigate. Further updates as information is received. We now return you to SportsDay!"_

As soon as the ship we called home was mentioned, T'vek and I exchanged glances. "We're calling the ship as soon as we get home, right?" I asked him.

"I was just going to say the same thing," he said.

"Make sure you give your mother my love," Gran told me, between bites of eggs benedict served on fish cakes rather than English muffins. She noticed the look I gave her in response to that, and added, "She may not be married to my son any more, but she's still family through you, Zoe. The notion that someone signing a few documents can end affection between people is patently absurd."

That was just one example of why I loved my grandmother. "If you come back to the house with us," I invited, "you can talk to her yourself."

"No, dear," Gran said with absolute certainty. "I don't think that would be wise…not just yet. I'll be joining you at the house later tonight when we celebrate Christmas Eve and I'll stay through Christmas Day, and then you know I always go away for the week between Christmas and New Year's Day, so if you want this dashing young man to see the farm, it will have to be after the holidays."

"Zoe's talked about the farm a lot," T'vek said, interrupting the side conversation about the soccer sector finals that he and Nick had started. "I'd love to see it."

"And so you will," Gran assured. "When I return from my trip. Now, tell me, Zoe says your mother is Vulcan and your father is Betazoid. Were you raised in just one tradition, or both?"

And so we finished the meal talking about the different cultures we'd each grown up with, and what our favorite holidays were, and we almost – _almost_ – put the news report out of our minds. Or at least, I did.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43979.39**

**(Friday, 24 December 2366, 11:30 AM, local time)**

**Harris Beach House, Beach Haven, Centaurus**

T'vek and I were the only people home when we made the call to the _Enterprise_. Dad and Gia had gone to take her family back to the spaceport – apparently Tony and Nunzia liked to host Christmas at their own home, on Earth, and had engaged a high-speed transport home (the fact that Centaurus dates and Earth dates didn't quite match helped some) - Vanessa had headed off to her own home in the capitol – we'd likely see her again for Dad's big New Year's Eve bash -  and my uncle said he had a gig, but I was pretty sure he actually had a date. In any case, there were thunder storms brewing out over the ocean and my attention was caught by the roiling clouds beyond the window while we waited in Dad's study for the comm-call to go through.

It took half an hour, and seemed twice as long.

_\- "Zoe," said my mother's image on the screen. "Are you alright? Is everything okay?"_

"We're good, Mom," I said. "Everything's fine here. I mean, there's a thunder storm on the way, but that's normal for this time of year."

_\- "You're burning comm minutes for a weather report?" her amusement failed to hide the worry lines around her eyes and across her forehead._

"Not exactly," I said, and then I explained about the news report. "Is everything okay?" I asked.

My mother looked away from the monitor and I could see her choosing her words very carefully.

_\- "I'm fine," she said. "Your friends are all fine. We are investigating something, but I can't tell you what. We'll be fine though." She paused. "Have a good Christmas, kiddo. I'll talk to you again in a few days. Do you want me to transfer you to T'vek's parents?"_

I glanced at T'vek, and he nodded his head, "If it's not too much trouble."

_\- "It isn't."_

There was a pause, and then she transferred us to the comm in the Mairaj quarters, but no one was answering, so T'vek left a message instead.

"Anyone else you want to talk to?" he asked.

"Go ahead and sign off," I told him.

After he cut the signal, we sat there in silence for several minutes. "Mom knew more than she was telling," I said, after a while."

"Yeah," he agreed. "But we shouldn't have expected real information on an open channel."

"I guess that was sort of… optimistic." I reached out and ruffled his hair. I loved his hair. "I'm sorry you didn't get to talk to your mother and father."

"They will at least receive my message," he said. "And for all we know we're worrying over nothing."

"Do you really believe that?"

His dark eyes were shining when he turned his head to stare directly at me. "I have to."

I offered him my hand. "Have you ever watched a major storm over the ocean?" I asked. "The view from the back patio is amazing, and we can turn on the patio heaters if it's too cold."

He grinned at me, "Let's go watch some weather."

Hand in hand, we walked through the house and out to the patio, where we didn't turn on the heaters, but settled into a single rattan lounge chair to watch as the skies darkened and the air thickened and the lightning show began, and if either of us imagined that a similar light show – a much more lethal one – might have been taking place wherever the _Enterprise_ was, neither of us actually voiced it.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43979.68**

**(Saturday, 24 December 2366, 2:00 PM, local time)**

**We were still out on the deck when Dad and Gia got home, and while I heard her call a tired greeting, my father was the only one who came outside.**

"Hey, weather-bug," he said to me. I'd been a storm-watcher for most of my life. "T'vek. Thank you both for all your help the last couple of days."

"It was no trouble, Zach," T'vek said.

"I was glad to do it, Dad," I added, overlapping my boyfriend.

"Still, it means a lot to Gia and me." He hesitated a moment, "Did you get in touch with your mother?"

"You knew I was going to try?" I asked.

"I suspected," he said. "Is she okay?"

"Everyone's _fine_ ," I said, accenting the word my mother had used with me. "But she couldn't really say much."

"I'll see if I can find out more, after Christmas," my father promised. "Are you two hungry?"

I shrugged. "Not really," I said. "Tev?"

He was just as non-committal. "I could eat or not," he said, adding, "Sorry if that's less than helpful."

I looked at my father – really looked at him - and saw that he looked tired and drawn. "Dad, it's been a crazy couple of days. If you and Gia want a quiet afternoon, we can go into town, or forage for leftovers or… whatever. Do you know when Uncle Zane's due back?"

My father tried to hide a smirk. "He left a message that if he wasn't home for dinner, he'd meet us at church tonight."

"Hah!" I said. "I knew it was a date."

"Was there any doubt?" Dad quipped. "Zoe, I've added credits to your account and left your account card on the kitchen table. If you really don't mind being on your own, Gia and I are going to retreat to our room."

I started to say 'have fun,' but decided it would be a little tacky. "No worries, Dad," I said. "We'll see you for dinner, though?"

He grinned, "Count on it.  Remember, my mother likes to start early. She'll probably be here by five, if not sooner."

"So, be home by then?"

"And… leave me a note with an idea of where you might be headed. Just in case."

"Sure, Dad. Love you."

My father disappeared into the house, just as a gentle rain began to fall. "So," I said to the boy who was snuggled against me on the lounger, "Do you want to explore town, or explore the kitchen."

"Kitchen's closer," he observed. "There's pizza left from last night."

"Re-heat it and then get cozy in the den? I suggested.

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed.

We went inside to do just that, bringing the rewarmed pizza into the den, and closing the door so sound wouldn't travel. I turned on the entertainment system, but it defaulted to IPN – InterPlanetary News. The show was just an entertainment news magazine – celebrity gossip – and we watched a while to see if Dad's wedding had made the cut. He and Gia were pictured in stills and video, and there was even a shot of T'vek and me walking out the church doors.

"Look, Tev, you're famous," I said, "Computer, save clip," I said to the entertainment system. "Well send it to your parents."

But he wasn't paying attention to the video; he was reading the ticker below frame. "Zoe."

"What, they won't want to see you all dressed up?"

"Zoe, read."

I focused on the news ticker.

_Representatives of Starfleet have confirmed that Providence Colony on Jouret IV has been destroyed. There are no survivors. Tune in at eleven local time for an interview from the scene._

Suddenly, watching horror vids didn't seem like such a great idea, after all. "Maybe we should watch a vid that's a little less bloody," I suggested to T'vek. "You know, in the spirit of the season, and all."

"Does your father get the FleetNet?" he asked, by way of a response.

"What's FleetNet?"

"It's the Starfleet channel. It began as an entertainment band that was streamed out to space stations and starships – news, entertainment, even scripted shows – but all with Starfleet positive messages. Now, it's got some of that, but it's also the best source of live updates when there's an emergency."

"They 'cast that on open networks?"

"No. They scramble it. You have to be a 'fleet family or be in Starfleet, and then they give you an access code. They probably also track your data use."

"Probably," I agreed. "Let's try and see?"

As it turned out, we did get the Starfleet network, and we caught the tail end of an interview with Commander Riker, who was talking about something called the Borg. I glimpsed Data in the background of the shot, and some blonde woman in a red uniform. I didn't recognize her, but that didn't mean anything. _And at least I knew Data was okay_.

Then the focus turned back to the commander, who explained, that these Borg-things were sort of like cybernetic zombies, only instead of eating people's brains, they assimilated whole populations, keeping what they could use (bodies to make more drones, any advanced tech) and spitting out the rest.

It made me shiver.

"C'mere," Tev had collapsed onto one of the couches, and he beckoned for me to join him. I did so, snuggling into his embrace. "Your mother, my mother, all of the officers we know, and the ones we don't, they've _got_ this. You don't have to worry."

"I know this," I said. "But why did it have to be zombies?"

I couldn't see his face, but I'm pretty sure he rolled his eyes at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Zoe's father's beach house is modeled on my uncle's (by marriage) family's 17-bedroom "cottage" in the Hamptons (though the Harris beach house doesn't have quite that much space), I made their entire community sort of Hamptons-esque, thus the name Beach Haven. Providence Colony, Jouret IV is the first Federation world attacked by the Borg in "The Best of Both Worlds, Part I." (Going by Stardates, the "season breaks" of TNG happen in late December (Earth calendar).) As Centaurus was originally a human colony, one of the first, I've used Earth-equivalent dates for the sake of the story.


	25. A Little Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With grim news of the Borg incursion into Federation space hanging over them, Zoe and her family celebrate Christmas on Centaurus.

**Stardate 43980.03**

**(Saturday, 24 December 2366, 5:05 PM, local time)**

"Haul out the holly.  
Put up the tree before my spirit falls again.  
Fill up the stockings.  
I may be rushing things, but deck the halls again now!"

My grandmother's boisterous singing, coming from the entry way, startled me out of the troubled sleep I'd managed to fall into. For a moment, I was disoriented, but I quickly realized that I'd fallen asleep in the den while Tev and I had been glued to the news feeds.  

The snoring that filled my left ear told me that my boyfriend had also ended up napping. I leaned over and nudged him.

"Do I hear singing?" he asked drowsily.

"Apparently, Gran is here, and we have moved on to the Christmas Eve portion of today's events."

"Should we go be useful?" he asked. "Or will they assume we're napping."

"Better to find her than let her find us," I retorted. I moved my recliner into its upright and locked position, slid my feet back into the flip-flops I'd kicked off earlier, and went looking for Gran, who – if the sound of her caroling was accurate – had relocated to the kitchen. "Join us when you're ready," I called back to T'vek.

Gran was moving around the kitchen, adjusting pots and pans, and stirring things when I walked in. She was still singing, so I joined her on the chorus, though my heart wasn't really in it.

"For we need a little Christmas  
Right this very minute  
Candles in the window  
Carols at the spinet"

"There's my favorite granddaughter!" Gran said, breaking off in the middle of the tune. "You look a little punky, kiddo."

"I'm your _only_ granddaughter." The response was automatic, but it was also true. Vanessa was actually my cousin through Gran's sister Lucille, who'd died so long ago that she was really just a name to me. "We were watching Fleet Net," I confessed. "It's… the news isn't good. There are these cyber-zombies called Borg, and the _Enterprise_ is in the thick of it."

"I'm sure you're worried," she said, pulling me into a hug that smelled of mincemeat pie and turkey gravy. "But you have to ask yourself: is there anything you can do to help?"

"Well, no," I said.

"And would worrying solve anything?"

"You'd tell me it never has," I reminded her, smiling.

"And I'd be right, my lovely girl. Would your mother want you to be glum and scared, or would she want you to celebrate the holiday, holding joy and hope in your heart?"

I stepped away from Gran's embrace. "She'd want me to have Christmas, of course."

"Then that's what we'll do." She reached out to tuck a stray piece of my hair behind my ear. The gesture was so similar to what Mom would do – had often done – that for a moment I felt as though she was with us. Then I wondered if there was some kind of manual all mothers followed. "I saw the news, too," Gran continued, her tone a bit more serious. "Your father called me after he found you and your young man _not_ canoodling in the den."

I felt my eyebrows wrinkling, betraying my confusion. "So, now it's worrisome when he finds his teenage daughter _not_ making out with a hot boy? Wow, have times changed."

She gave me her patented tilted-head and furrowed-brow frown. "Zoe, your father loves you, and as I reminded you earlier, we both still care about your mother. She will always be part of this family _because_ she is your mother. We're all concerned, but you, my dearest girl, always react with your heart first."

"I'm told that's what makes me a good musician."

"Yes," she agreed. "And compelling on stage – you should act more, learn to channel your emotional impulses into creative energy."

"I'll consider it," I agreed drily. The truth was, I missed theatre, but there hadn't been any opportunities yet on the ship.

"Do that," she said. "But first, wash your hands, then you can help with the cranberry sauce. We're eating at eight." She glanced past me at the doorway from the hall. "Ah, T'vek, welcome back to consciousness. Do you know how to set a table for a Terran-style meal? Wash your hands, and get to work."

Tev and I shared a look, and then I informed him. "Silverware and Christmas dishes are in the sideboard in the dining room. Fork on the left, knife and spoon on the right – there's a rhyme if you don't remember: 'The spoon and knife are husband and wife, the fork stands alone."

"I'll manage," he said. "But I'll do a much better job if there's more singing."

"And that's our cue, my love," Gran said to me. She launched back into her song, and when I joined her again, it was with much more gusto.

" Yes, we need a little Christmas  
Right this very minute  
It hasn't snowed a single flurry  
But Santa, dear, we're in a hurry."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43980.38**

**(Saturday, 24 December 2366, 8:12 PM, local time)**

We'd all expected my uncle Zane to show up just in time for dinner, and we'd all been correct. He had arrived a hair before eight with his latest squeeze, a flautist named Felicia, who seemed nice enough, even if she maybe lacked a bit of depth.

The seven of us made a cozy group around the dark wood table, but candle light and the twinkle lights on the dining room Christmas tree (there was a second tree in the formal living room), and the array of amazing food worked their magic. We may have been tired from all the wedding stuff, and emotionally off-kilter because of the news, but we rallied, especially when Gran gave us a conversational head-start.

"We have so many new people this year," she observed. "Gia, T'vek, Felicia… I think we should all go around the table and share our favorite holiday memories or traditions." It was her way of breaking the ice, as well as keeping us distracted.

And so, with frequent interruptions as people asked for seasons, or second helpings, we shared that bit of ourselves.

"I'll go first!" Felicia volunteered. Woodwind players, I'd noticed, tended to be disgustingly perky. "Every year, my parents used to take me to see Santa Claus at the local mall, and we'd get a picture taken. As a joke, my sisters and I went and took pictures with Santa last year, just before Dad and Mom retired to the Lorkin colony."

"Classic," Uncle Zane observed. "My memory is trains. Zach, do you remember?" He waited for my father's affirming grunt. "Our grandfather collected vintage toy trains, the kinds that used tracks, and we'd make these elaborate loops around the Christmas tree, with high and low trestles – "

"You always whined when he let me wear his engineer's hat," Dad put in. "And, remember that one set from twentieth century Germany?"

"The one where the middle rail was live?"

"Yes." Dad directed himself to Gia and me, but included T'vek as well. "We used to torture Barney – that's Vanessa's older brother – by making him touch it. 'Put your finger right there, Barn. It won't hurt at all.'"

"And he'd do it, every time," Zane added.

"You used to electrocute your cousin?" T'vek asked, grinning through his shock. "Zoe, do you think we could try that on Wesl – never mind."

I laughed at the very notion. "I'm pretty sure Wes is savvy enough not to fall for that. Josh, on the other hand…"

Gia laughed softly, "Zach-honey, Zane, the two of you are giving Zoe and T'vek dangerous ideas."

"Gia!" I protested, but I knew she wasn't serious, and neither was I, really, so I asked, "What's your favorite memory, then?"

"Pancakes."

"Pancakes?" I asked.

"Yes. Every year my family attends midnight mass at the church we've been going to forever, and then, after it's over, we go out for pancakes."

"I like this tradition," I decided. "Dad, isn't Breakfast Emporium open all night?"

"I think so," my father said. "Easy enough to find out." I could tell he was pleased that I was willing to help Gia honor her family's tradition, even if my motivation was a dinner out in the wee hours of the morning.

"Irene," Gia asked, "will you share your favorite memory?"

My grandmother laughed. "I could never choose! Many of my favorite memories involve evenings like this one, when the family would come together to share food and conversation. It's such a joy seeing my boys both happy and healthy, and to see my favorite granddaughter growing into such an interesting young woman."

"Gran, you're cheating!" I protested.

"On the _Enterprise_ , have you heard the saying, 'rank has its privileges?'" she asked me.

"Yes."

"Well, I'm old, and therefore I outrank the lot of you."

"So you get to change the rules?"

" _Modify_ , darling. I get to modify the rules. And, it's your turn, by the way."

I thought about it. "Part of me wants to say it was the moment when Mom would walk in the door after a mission, every year, and the knowledge that she'd be home for a couple weeks, at least, but...lately, I've been really nostalgic for a different tradition."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. This is the first year in forever that Dad and I haven't had our _Nutcracker_ date."

My father interjected before I could continue. "Oh, no, Zoe, I'm sorry. With the wedding and all, I forgot."

"It's okay, Dad. I'm probably too old for it anyway."

"What's a _Nutcracker_ date?" T'vek asked.

"Well," my father explained for me. "When Zoe was about four, she started taking ballet lessons. She was a very round child – positively plump."

"Dad!"

"Hush, Zoetrope."

"It's supposed to be my story."

"Don't argue with your father on Christmas Eve," he warned. "Santa doesn't like it."

"Fine," I said. "Whatever." Tev reached over and squeezed my hand. "Sorry." But I waved him off. I wasn't _really_ offended.

"Anyway, the year Zoe was six, the ballet teacher arranged for the entire group to attend a local performance of _The Nutcracker._ It's a ballet that takes place at Christmas."

"Only I couldn't go," I said. "Because I had chicken pox."

"Chicken pox?" T'vek asked. "Humans still get that?"

"They do when their mother is a Starfleet officer who brings home a weird strain of it from a forgotten colony."

"Which your mother did." T'vek wasn't asking. He just knew.

"Which my mother did," I confirmed.

"Anyway," my father said. "Zoe couldn't go with her class, but the ballet was playing for another week or two afterward, so when she was better – "

"On Christmas Eve – " I added.

"On Christmas Eve," my father said, grinning fondly at me, "I called the theater, and since the conductor of the pit orchestra was a friend of mine, we managed to get comps for that afternoon."

"And every year since then, Dad and I have gone to see _The Nutcracker_ on Christmas Eve," I said. "And then out to Café Belle Mar for hot chocolate."

"Not Red Sands?"

"Red Sands is great for every day, but Belle Mar does this thing where they have a huge holiday display made of chocolate – one year there was even a chocolate boat that sailed down a chocolate river – you can't beat that kind of spectacle."

"I think that's an awesome tradition. Maybe we could at least do the hot chocolate part while we're here?" T'vek asked. "I mean, hot chocolate is an important thing for us."

I laughed. "Well, _frozen_ hot chocolate is," I said. "But sure, we could do that."

"T'vek, I know you don't celebrate Christmas," Gran brought the conversation back on track, "but if there's something you'd like to share…?"

My boyfriend smiled. "Actually it was at the Vulcan Solstice Celebration about five years ago that my parents first acknowledged that my interest in art and architecture wasn't just a phase. We were in Shi'Kahr visiting Mother's family that year, and her brother, Solvek, introduced me to sand patterning."

"That's like building sand castles, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yes and no. We don't have beaches the way you do here, so water is used in small amounts from a mister, and we use compression techniques, as well, but… sand patterns tend to be elaborate structures. In any case, Solvek and I entered in the beginner-level competition, and ended up winning."

"So you were a total rock star, even at the tender age of eleven?"

"Perhaps not a _total_ rock star," he teased. "But if you want to think of me that way, I'm good with it."

We were all quiet for a moment, reflecting on the good memories we'd shared. Then Felicia broke the spell. "Wait a minute," she said. "I thought Zane was the rock star."

My uncle never did pick his dates for their intellectual capacity.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43980.83**

**(Sunday, 25 December 2366, 12:06 AM, local time)**

Even though there was a part of me that wanted to stay home in the cocoon of family and warm memories, I readily agreed to attend midnight mass. After all, it was tradition.

"Besides," Gran insisted. "It will do you good to spend time with other people in the community. You know half the town thinks of you as 'their' Zoe."

I couldn't fault her logic, but I did make sure Tev knew he wasn't required to attend. "I want to come," he countered when I suggested we could come get him before we went in search of pancakes. "I'm visiting you; it makes sense to share your tradition. Besides, isn't there singing at church? I want to hear you sing more."

"I'm really _not_ a singer," I protested.

"Right like you're really _not_ any good at math. You know you beat my score, and came in only a point lower than Wes, don't you?"

"Actually, I didn't even look at my grades before we left the ship. I beat your score? Really?"

"Yes, but since I helped you study, I figure both our scores are 'ours.'"

I laughed at that, and went to change. We hadn't dressed up for dinner, but you couldn't go to midnight mass in flip-flops and jeans.

Mother Ixchel greeted us warmly, and made a point of welcoming T'vek. The church, I noticed, was more crowded than usual – apparently a lot of people had seen the news and needed comfort and normalcy.

The service was more hopeful than joyful, and when Mother Ixchel mentioned the people serving in Starfleet, and asked us to pray specifically for them, and for all the people the Borg had taken, I felt my throat getting thick. I squeezed T'vek's hand, and he squeezed mine back.

At the end of the service, we rose as a congregation to sing "Joy to the World," and T'vek joined in the singing. His tenor wasn't well-developed, but it didn't hurt my ears to listen to it. _Data's voice is warmer_ , I found myself thinking, not sure where the thought even came from.   

Outside the church, members of the Ladies Auxiliary passed out mugs of cocoa and the Men's Club handed everyone oversized candy canes.

As I was turning away, candy in hand, from Old Man Fenster – a much kinder person than the moniker implied - I ran into the older sister of one of my friends. In the course of catching up, Tonya told me that she hadn't heard from her husband, an ensign named Rikard, since the twenty-second. "I know he's just doing his job," she confessed to me, "but how do I not feel resentful? Or worse, how do I not _worry_?"

I had no clue how to respond, so I just said, "I think you have to remind yourself that he loves you and will communicate when he can. It's what I've always told myself, any time I worried about Mom." I looked at the candy-cane in my hand, and decided it would be better-served if I gave it to her two-year-old daughter my candy-cane. "Tell Noreen I said hi," I said. "And Merry Christmas."

"Same to you, Zoe," she answered. "Come by the house before your holiday is over. She'd love to see you."

Dad and Gia reappeared at that moment. "So," my father said, rubbing his hands together in delighted anticipation. "Pancakes, yes?"

I grinned at him. "Pancakes, yes! Tev, you hungry?"

"Definitely," my boyfriend answered.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43982.47**

**(25 December 2366, 14:30 hours)**

After the presents had been opened, and a Christmas brunch eaten; after we'd sat around sharing more stories of holidays past – favorite gifts, other traditions - we all dispersed. Gran went into the living room with a book she'd been given, while Dad and Gia went back upstairs, claiming the need for a nap, though no one believed they were actually napping.

Uncle Zane and Felicia had been invited to spend Christmas day with her family, who lived in the capitol city – New Athens – so they'd taken off to do that. "I'm not sure if I'll see you again before New Year's Eve," my uncle had said, pulling me into a rough embrace. "So just… have fun, and make good choices."

"The same advice would seem to apply to you," I pointed out.

He chuckled. "That's fair. I love you, kiddo. Talk soon." And then he was out the door to the flitter that Felicia was piloting.

Left on our own, Tev and I could have easily returned to the den to find out the latest updates on the news, but there was a tacit agreement among the family that for this day, at least, we would live in a sort of self-imposed bubble. The rain from the previous morning had long-since passed, and the beach was beckoning. "Wanna learn to surf?" I asked.

His answer began with a slow grin. "Yeah."

We went to the storage room and found my wet suit as well as one that would fit him, grabbed towels and boards, left a note telling the adults where we were headed, and took the cliff-stairs down to the beach. The day was warm and breezy, and the swell was perfect for one brand new surfer, and one who hadn't been in the water in half a year: not too big, not too rough.

"Before we start," I began. "You really _can_ swim, right?" We'd only ever waded before, and he hadn't joined Dana and me in the hotel pool back on Serenity V.

"Yeah," he said. "I can swim. Grew up on the Opal Sea, remember?"

I grinned. "Now I do. My pirate king." Lessons were delayed about ten minutes for a make-out session, after which I quipped, "Being thoroughly kissed totally helps you maintain balance."

I put him through a quick and dirty training session – standing on the board in the sand, getting from paddle position to standing, first on the sand, then in about three feet of water. Paddling out past where the waves were breaking. "The nice thing about surfing on Centaurus," I pointed out, as we sat straddling our boards, bobbing in deep water, "is that we don't have to worry about being eaten by sharks."

"I thought you had carnivorous fish here."

"We do," I said. "But they never come in this close to shore, and they never attack people."

"Good to know," he said.

The water got suddenly choppier, but it wasn't waves. Instead it was a speed boat zipping by farther out than we were. I squinted my eyes to see if I knew the boat, but it went by too quickly for me to tell. Still, after it had passed, a really good set of waves started rolling in, and I grinned at Tev. "Time to see how fast you learn this."

"I'm so ready," he said.

For the next couple of hours, we talked and laughed, and did some decent, if not exceptional, surfing. T'vek was a quick study, after all, and by the end of the day he'd gotten really good. I might have been biased, though, because more than once, I found myself just _watching_ him.

Finally, we were waterlogged to the point of being prunes, exhausted, and, at least for the moment, happy. "That was awesome," Tev said. "How are you not out on the beach all the time?"

I laughed. "I am, when I can be. It's what I miss most, on the _Enterprise_."

"There are surfing programs for the holodeck," he said.

I blinked at him. "Really?" I asked. "It never occurred to me to even look."

He shrugged. "I've never tried them – obviously – but they do exist."

_Add one more to the 'pro' list for returning to the ship._

The angle of the sun changed just enough that the air was starting to chill. "We should get back to the house," I said. "I'm cold…"

"I'm _starving_ ," T'vek said.

I laughed. "Race you?" Then I took off, board in hand, before he could respond.

He beat me to the bottom of the steps anyway.

We were still laughing as we climbed the steps, crossed the patio, and entered the house. "Hey," he said, as we moved to the storage room to stow the surfboards. He'd unzipped his wetsuit and shrugged out of the top half, so his chest was bare. "Do I get a prize?"

"A prize?" I raised my eyebrows. "What did you have in mind?"

He stepped forward, and I could smell the salt on his skin mixed with the scent that was just his – vaguely spicy, vaguely warm. "You, me, upstairs."

I ran my hands over his chest, couldn't resist tasting his skin. Warm. Salty. Comfortable. "I need to make sure no one needs us for anything, but if not right now, then later tonight. I kissed his shoulder. "Maybe both."

I could feel his soft chuckle in his throat and chest. "Let's go see what's up."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43982.96**

**(25 December 2366, 18:47 hours)**

We found everyone in the living room. Gran and Gia were curled up on one of the couches, and Dad was at the piano, playing a variation of "Oh Holy Night."

"Zoe, come sing with me," he called.

I gestured to the wetsuit I was still wearing. "Not really dressed for it, Dad. Are we doing dinner together, or is there even a plan?"

"We were waiting for you two. We were thinking of ordering Chinese food, although we have more than enough leftovers to cull from, but we could order Vulcan take-out instead, if that's more to your liking?"

I glanced at T'vek. "I'm good with either. Tev?"

"I get enough Vulcan food at home," he said. "I've never had Chinese take-out. Zoe talks about it a lot."

"Can you order while we shower?" I asked. "Mongolian beef, for me, and pot stickers. And…Tev? Do we need to keep things veggie for you tonight? Pot stickers have pork, but they can do tofu instead of beef or chicken –?"

"If you could order some vegetable lo mein," he said, "I would like to taste your beef."

"Oh, we pretty much share everything. Add spring rolls to the order, Dad. And get sticky rice, not fried."

"And crab Rangoon," added Gia, who had been silent so far.

"Any other requests?" my father asked. "Ma?"

"I really dislike 'Ma,'" my grandmother said in her matter-of-fact tone. "Use 'Mom' or 'Mother,' and order some garlic shrimp, please."

My father laughed. "Yes, Mother."

"We'll be back down in about half an hour," I said. "C'mon, T'vek."

It was actually more like forty minutes before I rejoined my family. I'd showered, and dressed again in a baggy t-shirt and old sweatpants, leaving my feet bare, and my damp hair down. T'vek was already with everyone at the kitchen table, dressed not that differently from me.

"We were about to draw lots to see who would go drag you from the bathroom," Gran said, once I was seated.

"I had to get all the salt out of my hair," I said. "Everything smells amazing."

"Should we say grace?" Gia asked.

"That would be lovely, my dear," Gran said. "Would you the honors?"

Gia said a simple grace, and then we began eating, sharing different dishes tasting everything. T'vek did taste my Mongolian beef, and I had some of his lo mein, and when the meal was over we volunteered to clean up.

The entire family had tea in the living room after the dishes were done, and when Dad returned to the piano, I did sing with him for a while, but as the hour grew late, we all separated once more, heading up to our various bedrooms.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43983.77**

**(26 December 01:57 hours)**

The moon was no longer full, but it was close enough to wake me in the middle of the night, though that wasn't really unusual. I'd always been one who responded to the lure of the night sky. It was actually sort of ironic that I'd been dragged into space, where it was _always_ black outside the windows.

In any case, the light from the moon shining through the partly closed blinds pulled me from a dream about T'vek… the boy who was just down the hall, and to whom I'd promised a late night visit. I slid out of bed, not bothering to pull my sweats back on beneath my t-shirt, and cautiously opened my bedroom door. All was quiet. No lights shone through the cracks of any of the doors, and the only sounds I heard were normal house sounds – electrical hum, air conditioning and filtration, stuff like that.

Just as I had a few nights before, I avoided the creaky board, and hesitated as I passed each door. I wasn't entirely certain which bedroom Gran had claimed, and she tended to be as nocturnal as I was. Arriving at T'vek's room, I knocked softly, then just opened it.

I had no idea if he was wearing anything below the waist, but _his_ t-shirt had been draped over a chair, and he'd pushed the covers down to just above his hips. I closed his door behind me, and then approached his bed. "Tev?" I called softly.

"Took you long enough," he said in an equally quiet tone. "I was going to come to your room but I wasn't sure which board to avoid, and whether or not I'd wake anyone."

"You wouldn't have," I said. "Even the creaky board probably wouldn't have really bothered anyone. I'll show you tomorrow." I crossed the room to the bed. "Move over."

He slid to one side, and lifted the covers, and I saw that no, he wasn't wearing anything. "Like what you see?" he asked.

There was just enough moonlight in his room for me to catch the sparkle in his eyes and the wicked grin on his face. "Always," I said. I drew my underwear off, and then joined him in the bed, adding, "I like what I _feel_ , better." I reached to touch him, but he caught my hand.

"No," he said.

"No?"

"Not yet," he amended. "After the other night… I uh… did some research to see how I could make it better for you."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Care to tell me what you discovered?"

"Well," he said softly, "I could, but it'd be better if I showed you." He slid his hand under the t-shirt I was still wearing, finding my breast, cupping it, and teasing the nipple. "Will you trust me, Zoe?" he asked softly. "Will you let me show you?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them, then took a breath. "Yes," I said. "Oh, yes."

He kissed me, sliding his hand down my body as he did so. "Can we lose this shirt?" he asked.

"Definitely,"

I wasn't sure exactly what reference materials T'vek had found – he never told me, and to this day I'm half-convinced it was incredibly specific porn – but he did things with his hands and lips that required I stifle screams with his shoulder, the pillow, whatever was handy.

It wasn't until we were both coming down from our climaxes that we realized the comm-systems in every room of the house were emitting emergency signals.

I grabbed my t-shirt from the floor, as Tev pressed the button to engage the system.

The screen flashed with first the Federation emergency symbol, then the Centaurus emergency symbol, then the Starfleet insignia.

T'vek came back to the bed and wrapped his arms around me as the image changed again. The face we saw was familiar to me, and yet not. Captain Picard, but as if the color had all been sucked out of his life, and one eye was covered by some weird piece of hardware.

_"I am Locutus of Borg,"_ came the message _. "This message is being sent to all receivers in the Federation. I speak on behalf of the Borg. You will all be assimilated. Your distinctiveness will be added to our own. Resistance is futile."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "We Need a Little Christmas" was written by Jerry Herman for his musical Mame. The midnight mass Zoe and her family attend is Episcopalian. (As stated earlier, that's her family's tradition, but they're not particularly religious.) The episodes "Best of Both Worlds I" and "Best of Both Worlds II" really do take place over Christmas, spanning the time from just after Christmas to just after New Year's Day. I'm fudging dates a little, but not that much. (Seriously, NEVER spend Christmas on the Enterprise. Just don't.)


	26. Not So Happy New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still on vacation at her father's home on Centaurus, Zoe and T'vek remain glued to the news feeds for news of how Starfleet is handling the Borg. Both teens face stressful situations.

**Stardate 43983.85**

**(Monday, 26 December 2366, 2:32 AM, local time)**

_The screen flashed with first the Federation emergency symbol, then the Centaurus emergency symbol, then the Starfleet insignia._

_T'vek came back to the bed and wrapped his arms around me as the image changed again. The face we saw was familiar to me, and yet not. Captain Picard, but as if the color had all been sucked out of his life, and one eye was covered by some weird piece of hardware._

**_"I am Locutus of Borg,"_ ** **_came the message. "This message is being sent to all receivers in the Federation. I speak on behalf of the Borg. You will all be assimilated. Your distinctiveness will be added to our own. Resistance is futile."_ **

"Oh, god," I said after a few moments of staring at the screen, which had cut to static and then been replaced with FNN reporters and images of government leaders.

The tickers quoted news headlines at the bottom of the frame: Starfleet Captain Corrupted - Picard Compromised – Who Can We Trust? - Assimilation: Myths and Truths – What ARE the Borg? – Space Zombies Want Your Brains… and Bodies Too.

I repeated it, "Oh, god."

"Yeah," T'vek said, his voice soft and sober near my ear. "That pretty much covers it. You know, for whatever you mean by 'god.'"

"Should we wake up my father?" I asked, though I wasn't really asking him. "No, he'd have heard the emergency signal. Should we go to the den and see what FleetNet says?"

I slid out of his bed, found the pair of panties I'd left on the floor and put them back on, catching my toe on the lace band of one of the leg-holes as I did so. This caused me to stumble awkwardly, but I recovered.

"Zoe, calm down."

I gestured at the screen. "Calm down? Captain Picard's been turned into… that thing… and we have no idea what's going on with our parents and friends, and you think I should be calm?"

T'vek's part-Vulcan biology was never more evident than in the next few moments. "Zoe, I love you, but you have to calm down." He slid back against the headboard of the bed, crossing his legs under the covers. "C'mere," he said. "Sit facing me."

"Fine." I did as he asked, my back against the footboard, my legs crossed lotus style. He threw the bedspread back toward me, so I'd be covered. Apparently he thought I was cold. "Now what?"

"Breathe."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth."

"Meditative breathing? Really?"

"It works," he said. "Here, take my hands, and meet my eyes." His warm hands closed over mine, and his dark eyes captured my gaze. "I'm scared, too," he admitted softly. "I can't decide if I'm glad we're here, and relatively safe, but in the dark, or if I resent not being on the _Enterprise_ where we'd have a shot at hearing the whole truth. But being scared won't fix anything. Now, breathe. In through your nose, then hold it for two seconds, then out through your mouth."

I raised my shoulders in an exaggerated shrug, then let them fall. "Okay, fine," I said. I breathed in, held it, let the air rush out of my mouth.

"Good," T'vek said softly. "Again."

I knew better than to argue with him when he was being all vulky. It never worked out well. In. Hold. Out. He made me do it about ten times, but it felt like a thousand, except I really did feel calmer after about the first three. More in control.

"Okay," I said softly. "I think I'm okay, now. For a while, anyway." I turned my hands in his. "Thanks, Tev."

"Hey, I did it for me," he teased. "Call it enlightened self-interest."

"Uh-huh." I grinned at him as I said it.

My father knocked on the door a few minutes later. "T'vek," he called, "Is Zoe with you?"

"I'm here, Dad," I called, meeting T'vek's eyes, and waiting for his affirming nod. "Come in if you want."

I'd never seen my father so worried – frightened even – before. "Darling girl, when you weren't in your room, I didn't know what to think. Gia said you'd be with your friend."

Ordinarily I'd have corrected 'friend' to 'boyfriend,' but it wasn't an ordinary night. "I was panicking," I said, which was true, to a point. "Tev helped me get control of myself."

He nodded. "Your grandmother woke me as soon as she heard the e-blast. She's gone back to bed now, but said to wake her when you're ready for breakfast." He stared at T'vek and me for a long moment. "If you think you can sleep, you should go back to bed, Zoe."

"We're supposed to just go back to sleep? Like nothing happened? Like nothing's wrong?"

"We're safe here," he assured me. "I've tuned the comm-system to local e-blasts only, so you won't have to hear every 'cast," he added. "Sleep is the best thing you can do for yourself right now."

I met Tev's eyes again, and he nodded, "Go on back to sleep, Zoe. I'll be fine."

His breathing exercises actually had made me feel tired. "Okay," I said. "I'll see you in the morning…well," I added ruefully, "later in the morning." I leaned forward to kiss him, then unfolded myself and stood up. "You know where to find me."

His answer was to smile his sexy wicked smile at me. "Yeah," he said, "I do."

I followed my father out of the room, waiting for the inevitable lecture on appropriate behavior with male guests, but it never came. "I'm glad your friend is here with you," is what my father actually said as we walked back to our side of the house. "You can support each other, and help your Gran."

I snorted at that. "Dad, please, Gran is stronger than all of us."

He chuckled softly. "Excellent point, darling." We stopped at my still-open door. "Get some sleep, Zoetrope. I mean it. Don't stay up all night watching the news feeds."

My father knew me too well. "I will," I said. "And I won't." I kissed him on the cheek. "Love you, Dad."

"Love you, too," he said.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43985.47**

**(Monday, 26 December 2366, 4:44 PM, local time)**

"Anything new?" I asked as I entered the room that we'd always called the den, but Gia kept referring to as the 'media room.' Whatever you wanted to call it, we'd been hunkered down there in various configurations since early that morning.

It had begun with me not being able to sleep after the emergency alerts had gone crazy and my father had found me in T'vek's room, and sent me back to mine. I'd tried to sleep, but I only tossed and turned, until finally, I'd given up, slid sweatpants on under the t-shirt I had worn to bed earlier, and wandered down to find something to snack on. When in doubt: seek solace in junk food.

Gia had been in the kitchen, too. "Is it like this when you're on the ship with your mom?" she asked me, probably not even thinking about the fact that my mother was, in fact, on a ship – the ship – dealing with the Borg.

"What do you mean?" I asked, too worried to even bother snapping at her.

"You know, sirens and alerts and stuff."

I shook my head. "There are alarms, sure, when something bad happens, but civilians are mostly just confined to quarters. We don't get all the gossipy stuff – you know the people on the news making guesses about what went wrong – but we also don't typically know anything unless an officer lets something slip that they shouldn't."

"Isn't it terrifying?"

I hesitated before answering her. "There are different kinds of terror," I said slowly. "On the _Enterprise,_ you fear the ship breaking up during a battle, though, really, there aren't that many of those. Here? We have no real information, except there are space-zombies coming to kill us."

But that had been hours before.

T'vek lifted his eyes to mine, tearing himself away from the vid-screen. "Your Grandmother is napping. Your dad and Gia went for a walk on the beach. The _Enterprise_ is currently under the command of Commander Riker and someone named Shelby is serving as his second."

I arched my eyebrows at that. "Shelby? Not Data? But I thought he was second officer?"

Tev shrugged. "I can only report what I hear. FNN thinks the Romulans are involved. Centaurus News has people who swear they found a secret base where the Breen are actually making – creating? raising? – whatever – the Borg."

"Has anyone ever actually seen what's inside Breen armor?" I asked, more musing than anything else. "Maybe the Borg _are_ the Breen."

Tev favored me with the kind of smirk you have to be at least half-Vulcan to pull off. "Guess what the commentators on FedNet Two are saying?"

"No!"

"Yes."

I descended the three steps into the main part of the room, and joined him on his couch. "Have you slept any?" I asked quietly. I noticed dark circles under his eyes, the bruised green making him look more alien than he usually did.

He shrugged. "A little. In here. You?"

I shook my head. "I keep trying. I keep having nightmares. It's like when we all thought Data was dead, but worse. Way, way, way worse."

"FleetNet mentioned reports of a huge cube-shaped object approaching the Wolf 359 system."

"Cube-shaped?"

"Yeah. No video though."

"I'm not sure if that's good or bad."

"Me neither."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43988.84**

**(Tuesday, 27 December 2366, 10:16 PM, local time)**

After two days of media immersion, I'd lost track of time, and I was pretty sure neither T'vek nor I had eaten a regular meal or slept normally since the alerts went off. Gran made stacks of sandwiches, and several casseroles so that we wouldn't all rely on replicator food since none of us felt like cooking.

Then she gathered us all in the foyer.

"I love you all," she said, pinning first my father, then me, then Gia, and even T'vek with her gaze. "But I'm not spending the week tip-toeing around while the lot of you mope and scowl. As my travel plans have changed, I'm returning to the farm today." Off-planet travel for anything but emergent reasons was currently being restricted.

"Mother, are you sure that's wise?" my father never used the word 'mother' unless he was concerned or angry.

"Why wouldn't it be?" she challenged him.

He couldn't think of a reason.

"Sven will handle anything that needs handling," she added. Then she kissed him on the cheek. "Take care of your family, Zachary. I'll see you for New Year's."

She hugged each of us, muttering reassurances in our ears, although from Tev's expression I think she whispered something else to him. Then she left.

Dad and Gia went back to the den then, and T'vek and I were left alone, but he did manage to elicit a smile from me by asking, "Wait. There really is a Sven?"

"There might be," I said. Then I turned around and headed upstairs. "I'm tired of staring at vid screens. I'm going to take a bath." And that's what I did.

Hot water, bath bubbles that smelled like summer flowers and sea salt, a good book – it was my go-to formula for washing away gloom. I set the entertainment system to play a mix of light classical and jazz music – rock and roll was _not_ good accompaniment for a decent soak – and submerged my body in the tub.

Instant relaxation.

Maybe a little too much relaxation, because I could have sworn that I closed my eyes only a minute before, but when I opened them the water had gone cold, and someone was knocking at my door.

"Be there in a minute!" I called out, reaching to unplug the drain stopper. I toweled off and wrapped myself in the fluffy robe I always had and rarely used, and even slid my bare feet into cotton chenille spa slippers. "Is there new news?" I asked, opening the door.

I was expecting Dad.

It was actually T'vek.

"Nothing new," he said. "Your father just realized you'd come up here more than an hour ago. Sent me to make sure you didn't drown."

"Translation: Zoe, come down and be morbid with everyone else instead of in your room alone." I said, and then I was immediately apologetic. "I didn't mean to abandon you."

"You didn't," he said. "But it's after ten, and I know you haven't eaten anything in hours, because I haven't, and except for your bath we've been together."

"And they've decided we all need to have a meal together, despite the odd hour." It wasn't a question.

"Pretty much," T'vek confirmed.

"Have a seat," I gestured to my bed, which I'd remade after not-really-sleeping in it, mostly out of habit. "I need to find something to wear." I rooted through drawers and came up with clean pajama bottoms and a faded Starfleet Academy t-shirt that had once been my mother's. It was pretty worn, and I made a mental note to figure out a way to acquire a new one. I left my hair in its damp ponytail. "Okay," I said, as I pulled a pair of athletic socks onto my feet in lieu of slippers. "Let's go have a sweet family dinner."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43990.29**

**(Wednesday, 28 December 2366, 11:00 AM, local time)**

We spent the morning of the third day after Christmas flipping channels.

_"…reports that the Borg Cube continues to progress toward the Wolf 359 system, with estimated arrival in roughly three standard days…"_

FLIP

_"… Locutus has refused requests for interview, repeating only that the Federation's 'technological and personal distinctiveness' will be assimilated by the Borg…"_

FLIP

_"…_ **_Enterprise_ ** _sent a subspace burst confirming the ship is intact, but transmissions are being jammed…"_

FLIP

_"…saying that you believe the Borg are just the first wave of an attack from the Delta Quadrant or beyond…"_

FLIP

_"…. Romulan Empire has never been on friendly terms with the Federation. Even now diplomacy is strained at best…"_

"System off." My father's voice was adamant, not that it made a difference to the entertainment computer.

"Dad!"

"No," my father said. "Zoe, I get it, I'm worried and scared, too, but we can't hide in here until something happens. Gia and I are going into town to have lunch. Would you like us to drop you and T'vek at the arcade or the skating rink?"

"Tev?"

"Actually," he said, hesitating, "I'd really like to try surfing again, since the sun is out." He flashed me a rueful grin. "If the apocalypse comes," he said, "wouldn't you rather meet it on the water?"

"The boy makes an excellent point," I said. In truth, I'd been monitoring the surf reports on my padd. "Would you drop us at Hikaru Beach?" I asked. "There's awesome swell there today."

My father grinned. "Sure," he said. "Anything to get you away from the vid-screen for a few hours."

"But if you hear anything…."

"I promise I'll come get you the instant there's any kind of news. Go get ready; Gia's waiting."

"Hikaru Beach was named for Captain Hikaru Sulu," I explained to T'vek, as we unloaded our gear. "He was a friend of Captain Kirk's and I guess Kirk owned a lot of property on Centaurus at one point, so there are lots of places named after his friends."

There were a few other surfers already there, but that made sense, as it was nearly noon. A blonde girl came up to us as we staked out our section of sand, "That can't be Zoe Harris," she challenged, grinning.

"Oh, god, Kelly!" I dropped my gear and ran to hug one of my oldest friends. "I thought you'd moved to Garrovick Bay?"

"We did," she said, cheerfully, returning my embrace. "But my grandparents still live in Beach Haven, so we came for the holidays. And I think my parents are considering moving back. Who's the boy? Is he available?"

I rolled my eyes at her, then called back to T'vek, who was lingering a couple yards away, "Tev, come meet one of my friends from before…"

My awesome boyfriend joined us, gave Kelly an appraising glance, and then wrapped his arm around my waist.

"T'vek Mairaj, meet Kelly Weaver."

"Hi," he said to her. "Good to meet you." He lifted his free hand and tucked some of his shaggy hair behind his ear, so the point showed. "And no," he added, "I'm definitely _not_ available."

"Wow, you heard me?" Kelly's grin turned sheepish. "Oops, sorry." Then she added, "So, did your parents throw you out of the house, too?"

"Kind of," I said, "yeah."

Tev shook his hair back into its more usual place. "Did we come to chat?" he asked, "or surf. Because I was promised surfing, and I think we owe it to our friends on the ship to be sporting awesome tans when we get home."

I laughed. "Okay, okay."

Kelly laughed, too. "I should get back to it, too. No surf to speak of in the Bay. Nice meeting you T'vek," she said. "Nice seeing you, Zoe. We'll be at the club, later, if you want to join."

She ran back across the beach to her friends, and T'vek and I chose a new spot several more yards in the opposite direction. "You can be with your friends if you want," he said.

"I don't," I said. "I really don't. But if you do…?"

He stabbed his surfboard into the sand, drew me close, and kissed me. "I'm kinda loving not having to share you with parents or teachers or other friends for long chunks of time."

We really didn't do that much surfing, after all.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43995.32**

**(Friday, 30 December 2366, 7:02 AM, local time)**

Two days after our forced surf excursion, T'vek and I rented a sailboat from the yacht club so he could show off his sailing prowess. We didn't go far, just out to one of the closest islands for a picnic lunch, but it was amazing to be with him, watching his shaggy hair blow in the breeze as he directed our course.

"Now I see why you named yourself after a pirate," I teased him, after he'd set the autopilot and come to sprawl on the wooden deck with me. "You love the water as much as I do."

He grinned. "Yeah, I do. My mother says that's my Betazoid blood. I keep reminding her that Sasak of Xir'tan was a celebrated shipwright on Vulcan and throughout the Federation."

" _I_ keep forgetting Vulcan has an island continent… everyone seems to be from Shi'Kahr, or at least from nearby."

"Most non-Vulcans forget about Xir'tan"

"Have you been there?"

"No, but I want to. There's an excellent architectural academy there, and it would make Mother happy if I attended a Vulcan school."

"But you're considering other schools, too, right?"

"About as much as you're considering schools other than M-SOMATA." He was referring to the Martian School of Music and the Arts, my father's alma mater.

"Oh, you!"

We spent the rest of the day building sand castles rather than focusing on possible futures, then returned to the boat, diving from it, swimming back, and generally playing in the water. We returned to the yacht club a mere five minutes before our check-in time, met Dad and Gia for dinner, and got home too tired to watch the news.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43998.34**

**(Saturday, 31 December 2366, 9:30 AM, local time)**

By the morning of New Year's Eve, we were tan, salt encrusted, and managed to pass for ordinary, blissful teenagers, except when there was a news report on. Then all laughter would cease, and we'd focus on whatever reporter was on the vid-screen at that moment.

Nevertheless, Dad and Gia decided to hold their New Year's Eve party. After all, it was tradition. T'vek told me he thought it was a good idea. "If we let the possibility of a Borg attack stop us from living our lives," he said, "they've already won."

He had a point.

So, we helped set up for the party, which mostly meant staying out of the way of the caterers and their staff, and we found ourselves back in the den, after all, glued to the news.

FleetNet reported that a fleet of forty Starfleet ships had formed a sort of line in the proverbial sand in the Wolf 359 system, and was preparing to challenge the Borg head on.

"That sounds dire," I said to Tev.

"Naah," he said, in a tone I'd learned was his version of whistling in the dark, "the fleet will prevail and all will be well by the time we ring in the new year."

"I hope you're right," I said.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 43999.85**

**(Saturday, 31 December 2366, 11:45 PM, local time)**

As was typical for my father's annual bash, the guests were a mix of local elite, members of the arts community, friends, and family, and whatever houseguests any of the above had invited along. The furniture in the formal living room had been pushed back to make room for dancing, and a jazz combo was set up in one corner.

Every indoor plant, and almost everything vertical outside had been draped with white fairy lights, and clusters of candles were on the center of almost every flat surface. The caterers had provided a spread of finger foods that ranged from chips and dip to sushi to things I couldn't identify, and champagne was served throughout the evening, rather than only at midnight.

I introduced T'vek to some of the family he hadn't met at the wedding reception, and to a few of the members of Dad's orchestra, whom he recognized from Serenity Five. He danced with my cousin Vanessa, and then with Gia, and when Gran made her appearance, he danced with her as well.

Mostly, though, he danced with me. Well, it would be more accurate to say we swayed, because while I'd had a childhood full of ballet, tap, and jazz, I wasn't very good at social dancing, and T'vek, for all his other talents, was rhythm-impaired.

The band was just going on a break when someone tapped me on the shoulder and I turned around to see my friend and favorite baristo, Kavan. "Hey," I said. "You're here."

"I am," he agreed, dragging his companion forward. "The parents came, and Kelly was in town, so she's here too."

"Hey, Kell," I said.

"Hey," she breezed. "Sorry if I interrupted your date the other day."

"You didn't," I said.

"What do you say we all get out of here?" Kavan suggested.

I glanced at T'vek, who shrugged. "Why not," I said. "I'm about danced out."

The four of us trouped down the back hallway, and out through the mudroom to the back deck, which was empty. I found the timer for the patio heaters – the sea air was a bit chilly late at night – and revealed the bottle of champagne I'd hooked en route.

T'vek dropped into one of the chaise lounges, and gestured for me to join him, while Kavan and Kelly opted for chairs of their own.

"So," Kelly said, "catch us up. How awesome is it living on a starship?"

Tev and I told them what it was really like, how most of the kids were Starfleet wannabes like their parents, how the classes were small, and the teachers pushed us hard. We told them about some of the dignitaries we'd met – though I left out the brief introduction to Sarek – and where the ship had gone.

Finally, though, Kavan picked up the champagne bottle, took a healthy swig and asked, "Okay, now tell us what we really want to know. T'vek… how did you tame Zoe."

It's a good thing neither of us had been drinking at that moment, or I'm certain there would have been a spit take. "Tamed?" we both asked at the same time.

"What makes you think Zoe could ever be tame?" T'vek asked, holding my hand more to keep me from slugging Kavan than for purely affectionate reasons.

"How do you know I'm not the one who _did_ the taming?" I asked, in my best one-false-move-and-you're-dead tone of voice.

Kavan was saved from certain death by the sudden appearance of my grandmother. "Darlings," she enthused, "it's nearly midnight. Sparkle time!"

We followed her back inside, to where the countdown to midnight was just starting, and when it officially became 2367, T'vek and I were kissing amidst the hiss of sparklers and the sound of off-key singing.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44001.40**

**(Sunday, 1 January 2367, 12:15 AM, local time)**

The pleasant buzz I'd had from the stolen champagne the night before gave way to the combined sounds of e-blast alerts and T'vek's voice calling my name. "Zoe! Zoe, wake up!"

I sat up in my bed, nearly hitting him in the nose with my elbow as I did so. "What?" I asked groggily. Then the alerts penetrated my brain. "Oh, shit. What now?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said. "The blasts just sounded. Your father said he'd reset the system for only real emergencies, though, so…"

I reached for the remote on my nightstand, and pressed the sequence of buttons that would allow my entertainment console to show news.

_"Officially Starfleet is referring to this event as the Battle of Wolf 359,"_ _a mocha-skinned FNN reporter was saying. "But the truth is that it was more like a massacre. Just a few hours ago, forty ships faced the Borg. Now, only one starship remains, in addition to any survivors who made it to escape pods."_

"Which ship?" I asked, not sure if I was asking T'vek or the screen. That information would determine my reaction.

_"We go now to Starfleet Headquarters where Admiral Alynna Nechayev is speaking to the press corps."_

We watched the screen as a slight blonde woman strode into a room and took her place behind a podium. The front was draped with Starfleet's sigil, while the flags of United Earth and the United Federation of Planets flanked her. She talked in a voice that managed to be warm and sweet at the same time it was also confident and commanding, and she spoke of the ships that had battled against the Borg cube.

She listed thirty-nine ship names, but I couldn't focus, couldn't track. Finally, she gave us the confirmation we both needed: _"_ ** _U.S.S. Enterprise_** _, under the command of William T. Riker is tracking the Borg vessel on its approach to Sector 001. The Borg known as Locutus, formerly Captain Jean-Luc Picard, continues to issue statements regarding assimilation. We urge everyone to minimize travel. Off-world transit is suspended except in emergent situations. Local authorities will provide more information."_

_"Enterprise_ survived," T'vek repeated to me, as if trying to convince himself. "Thirty-nine out of forty ships were destroyed, but _Enterprise_ survived."

I couldn't find words. We were half un-dressed, though we hadn't done anything but sleep the night before, and we were in my bed, and clinging to each other for everything we were worth, and when my father came in a few minutes later, he didn't seem surprised, and we didn't bother to move apart.

His tone was a mixture of relief, concern, and exhaustion, and probably no small amount of hangover. "I guess you saw the news," he said, sitting on the edge of my bed, on my side. "I'm glad you two have each other," he said. "And I'm glad you're here, Zoe." He sighed, and I reached for his hand with my free one. "We're all going to have to hold tight to each other now."

When Gia came into the room a few minutes later, her face drawn and tight, we just moved so she could join us. When Gran arrived a few minutes after that, she was more subdued than I'd ever seen her. "My dear ones," she said softly, "I was wondering if you'd join me in a prayer."

We didn't bow our heads, or utter any words aloud, but we all piled onto my bed, and held hands or wrapped arms around each other. Then we took in a collective breath, and each of us, in our own way, sent a plea out into the Universe. I can't pretend to know what anyone else's was, but my own thoughts were the safety of my mother, T'vek's parents, Data, our friends, and everyone else, and the continued safety of the rest of the Federation at large.

We were silent for several minutes, and then, T'vek broke the mood. "Forgive me if I'm being a bad guest," he began. "I know things are dire – I mean, my parents are up there – but is anyone else hungry?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forty ships engaged the Borg at Wolf 359 on New Year's Day (Earth equivalent date) 2367. 39 were destroyed, with most hands either lost or assimilated. Among the survivors, of course, were Benjamin Sisko and his son Jake. (Revised 27 May 2016.)


	27. Support Systems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe and T'vek return to the Enterprise, where they are each faced with an injured parent. When Zoe needs someone to lean on, Data volunteers himself.

**Stardate 44006.62**

**(Tuesday, 3 January 2367, 10:00 AM, local time)**

**Beach Haven, Centaurus**

The thing about space battles is that, unless the news tells you what's going on, there's really no way to know what's happening much beyond the atmosphere of whatever planet you happen to be occupying at any given moment. T'vek and I had been at my father's beach house on Centaurus for roughly two weeks, and about half of that time had been spent with impending doom hovering just above us. Or behind us. Or…whatever.

On New Year's Day, forty Starfleet vessels had gone head-to-head against these hive-mind space-zombies called the Borg, and only one - the _Enterprise_ – had survived.  Less than a week later – a mere _two days_ later, actually, T'vek and I were on a transport back to Earth, to San Francisco, where someone from the ship would be meeting us.

Both of our mothers were among the injured. We'd only been given the barest of facts: neither T'rella nor my mother had been actual combatants, but several sections of the ship had been damaged, and a lot of people – even science-types like my mother – had received plasma burns or inhaled noxious chemicals.

We'd been told we didn't have to come. In fact, on January second, my father had gathered the whole family and T'vek around the dining room table, and introduced us to Lieutenant Hayley Symons, a too-perky red-head from the Starfleet Affairs office.

"Protocol," Symons had informed us, "dictates that we provide this information in person whenever possible. Stevek Mairaj, your mother has been injured and is in stable condition. Your father is with her, and she is likely to recover within the week, however, they are requesting that you return to the _Enterprise._ "

Tev and I looked at each other, and neither of us said anything right away, but his hand crept into mine under the table, and I squeezed it.

"Zoe Harris, your mother is also injured, and is in critical care. The _Enterprise_ CMO believes your presence would be beneficial to her healing process, but it is entirely up to you and your father to make that decision."

This time, it was T'vek who squeezed my hand.

"And if I decide to go," I asked, "then will Tev and I travel together?"

"You will," she said. "Although I cannot guarantee that there is a free officer to accompany you."

I rolled my eyes at that. "We're not six-year-olds," I reminded her with a bit more bite in my tone than was polite. "We traveled here without accompaniment, after all."

To her credit, Symons responded to my snark by softening her tone. "I'm sure you did, Zoe, but…tensions are running high right now, and with so many ships out of commission…"

"Pirates." I said. "You're worried about pirates and hostile aliens and…stuff."

She cracked a smile, "I cannot confirm or deny that."

"Whether Zoe decides to go or stay, I still have to go?" T'vek asked then. "I mean, I don't get a choice?"

"Presumably if you wished to stay, you could work that out with your parents, but I'm not authorized to allow it without hearing from them."

"When do we have to let you know?" my father interrupted the conversation for his first time, with that question.

"Stevek would have to be at Capitol City Spaceport by noon tomorrow," she said.

 "We'll call this evening to confirm," my father said, rising from his chair. "Let me walk you out."

I had left the _Enterprise_ expecting to beg my father for permission to stay with him. Two hours before T'vek was required to appear at the spaceport, he finally agreed to let me go.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44012.30**

**(Thursday, 5 January 2367, 11:44 hours, ship's time)**

**Spacedock, San Francisco, and the _U.S.S. Enterprise_**

 

"Who do you think will be meeting us?" I asked T'vek as we joined the transport's senior officers for breakfast in their mess on our last day of travel. "Your dad, I'm guessing? Maybe Counselor Troi or one of her staff."

"If it's Crusher, I'm going back to your Dad's house on Centaurus," T'vek said, which made both of us chuckle.

"Generally speaking," the ship's second officer, a half-human, half-Rigellian named Marek put in, "they'll send someone who knows you, and who you know well, so if your father isn't available, T'vek, it may be an officer you both know, or even one of your teachers."

"Barclay," Tev and I said together, and then I continued, "It's totally gonna be Barclay."

But it turned out that it wasn't any of the people whose names we'd bandied about. Instead, it was the one person who was guaranteed to make me smile, in spite of everything, because when we exited the ship with T'ev guiding the grav-sled with our luggage through the umbilical to Spacedock, Marek paused. "Wow, I knew you two were part of the _Enterprise_ family, but I didn't know you were this important."

I tried to peer around him to see who was waiting for us, and couldn't. "What do you mean?" I asked.

But Marek had already stepped forward, extending his hand in greeting toward the person in question, someone he clearly knew. "D-man," he said, "I haven't seen you since we were on the _Trieste_ together."

I still couldn't see, but the voice that responded to Marek was one with which I was incredibly familiar. "Greetings. It is good to see you, as well."

"Data!" I said, "Tev, Data's meeting us."

But T'vek wasn't thrilled with that news. "If they sent Data," he told me, pausing the sled, "it means something really bad happened to one of our parents. It means Symons was soft-pedalling."

I almost wished I'd stayed on Centaurus after all, but before that thought was even fully formed, Marek moved out of the way. "Zoe Harris, T'vek Mairaj, it was a pleasure traveling with you." He handed the padd with our information over to Data, who was in view now.

"Thanks for everything," I said, speaking for myself and Tev. "It was surprisingly not-horrible."

Marek grinned at me. "I'm glad to hear it. Be good, you two. Don't cause too much more trouble."

T'vek murmured something to the effect that we wouldn't. I merely grinned.

Data came up to us then, looking as calm and reliable as he ever did. "Zoe," our teacher – my friend – greeted us. "T'vek. I am sorry your vacation was abbreviated. Please accompany me." He turned around and started down the corridor, explaining, "The _Enterprise_ sustained significant damage during the events of the past two weeks. We will be remaining at Spacedock for four to six weeks for repairs and refitting."

"Are we staying on the ship, or 'fleet housing, or…?"

"For now, you will be returning to your parents' original quarters."

"For _now_?" T'vek asked.

Data paused, facing us directly. "Starfleet is likely to be shuffling assignments in order to restructure the fleet," he explained in his usual reserved, matter-of-fact way of speaking.

I felt stupid for not realizing that, and could see a similar I-should-have-known expression on Tev's face. "Oh," I said.

Data's brow quirked ever so slightly. "Indeed."

**(=A=)**

 

T'vek and I parted ways at his parents' quarters. His father had just returned from sickbay, and wanted to have some one-on-one time with his son before they went to see his mother. I felt a little bit abandoned, but I understood. Kenash pulled me into a fatherly embrace, and assured me that if I needed anything I could call on them. Tev hugged me, and we shared a chaste kiss, and then he and his belongings were behind the closed door of his home on the _Enterprise._

Suddenly teary, and not sure why, I stepped away from the door, and reached for the handle of the grav-sled, only to find that Data was already holding it. "Allow me," he said quietly, and then, probably because he was one of the few who could tell when my moods changed, he added, "Zoe, are you alright?"

I shook my head. "Just a little overwhelmed," I said. "Can we go now? I want to change into clothes that don't smell like transport vessel, and then I'd really like to see my mother." I hesitated then added, "I mean… if I'm… Lieutenant Symons said she was in critical care?"

He guided the sled down the corridor as he explained. "You will be able to see her, but the burns she received were extensive, and she has been sedated to help minimize her pain." He sounded as if he was quoting from an official report. Probably he was. "She may not be awake, Zoe."

I nodded, then realized he likely couldn't see me as I was next to, but slightly behind him. "Okay," I said. "Will she recover?"

"It would be better if you wait for Doctor Crusher to explain…" he began.

"No."

"Zoe?"

"I want to hear it from you," I said. In a less demanding voice, one that came out smaller than I'd intended, I added, "I know you won't soften things so I'll feel better. I know you'll tell me the truth."

"Your mother's prognosis is good," he said after a beat. "The doctor's reports are favorable. She is already showing signs of improvement."

We entered a turbo-lift, and I was quiet for the entire ride, and for the rest of the walk to my quarters – my mother's quarters – ownership seemed kind of nebulous to me at that moment. At the door, I hesitated. "Is this when you tell me that someone from the counseling staff will be by to check on me, and that I should contact them or Kenash if I need anything?"

"That _is_ the standard protocol," Data confirmed.

"Am I supposed to wait to hear from some counselor I don’t know before I can see Mom? I mean… Tev's father was really sweet and all, but I'm pretty sure he was just being nice. He has his own family to worry about. And you…"

"…are an emotionless android who cannot offer support?" He made it a question but his inflection made it seem as though someone had actually used those words.

"I didn't say that," I said. "I would _never_ say that." I stood aside as he guided the grav-sled through the still open doorway I'd been standing in. "I was _going_ to say that you're the second officer of this ship, and are probably way too busy and important to hand-hold a student."

"May I enter?" he asked, remaining in the corridor even after I was in my quarters.

I paused, and blinked at him. "Are you a vampire now?"

"I do not understand." This time, I was certain, he was teasing me.

I rolled my eyes. "You know, unable to cross a threshold unless you receive a specific invitation?" It came out snarkier than I meant it to. "Sorry. But yes, of course you 'may enter.'" The lights had come up as soon as we'd opened the door, and now I noticed that the room was in disarray – planters on the floor, art fallen off the wall, my cello on its back, the top smashed in by an end table that had rocked forward. "Oh… god." I stood in the middle of the room, and for the first time since Tev and I had heard the first e-blast back on Centaurus, I burst into tears.

Data's hand touched my shoulder, and I heard his voice near my ear. "Zoe," he said. "I am sorry. It did not occur to me that your living space might have been adversely affected. These are only things. Things can be replaced. Your mother _will_ recover, and you are safe." He waited a few seconds for me to respond, but when I didn't immediately do so he added, "Please tell me how I can help."

His sincere effort to be supportive only made the tears flow more freely, but I shrugged his hand away, and turned to face him. "I should ask you to help me clean up, but right now what I really need is a hug. Is that okay?"

He didn't point out that I'd hugged him before, or remind me that we were friends. His eyes flickered back and forth for a second or two, and then he stepped just enough closer to me that when he extended his arms he could pull me into a slightly stiff embrace. Well, _he_ was stiff. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his chest, and cried until I didn't have any tears left, while he said softly, "Zoe, if you require this form of reassurance from me in the future, please understand: you do not need to ask if it is o-kay."

I couldn't help it. His sincerity combined with the way he pronounced 'o-kay' made me chuckle even as I cried the last of my tears, but I stayed in the protective circle of his arms for a few moments longer. When I felt ready, I pulled away and he let me go. "Thank you," I said, and then, "I'm sorry. I didn't think… everything just kind of hit me all at once."

"I have often observed that humans react to stressful events long after the events themselves have occurred. In your case, I believe you essentially 'bottled up' your worry about your mother and friends while you were away." He moved past me and quickly righted the plants and the end table, and set the fallen art against a wall. "You should sit down," he said, and it was more than just a suggestion.

I moved to the couch and collapsed onto it. "I really didn't mean to fall apart like that," I said. "And you shouldn't be cleaning up. I'm not entirely helpless."

"I do not think you are at all 'helpless,'" he said. "But you are in need of more care than I anticipated when I volunteered to meet you and T'vek and escort you home."

"You volunteered?"

"Counselor Troi is involved with a high-priority patient," he said. "Her staff has been assigned first to help personnel who lost family to the Borg, and then to counsel those who were aboard. Doctor Crusher is overseeing the care of patients like your mother, as well as others who were injured…" he trailed off, then began again. "As well, it is protocol for escorts and informants to be…"

"People we know. That part I get." I also got, though I didn't ask for confirmation, that the 'high-priority patient' was the captain. Who else would it be? I considered asking him who had said he couldn't offer support but decided against it. Instead, I said, "I'm glad it's you, Data." I was silent for a bit after that, and so was he, but then I asked, "So, exactly what does happen now? Can I shower and change and see my mother? Am I supposed to check in with anyone, or am I on my own?"

"I will happily wait here while you 'freshen up,'" he said. "I will also escort you to sickbay if you prefer not to go alone. Someone from the counselling staff _will_ be checking on you at least daily, but I assumed you would prefer not to have a 'babysitter.' Was I mistaken?"

I shrugged. "Normally, I'd be fine on my own, but nothing about this – " and I gestured to the room "- feels normal."

"No," he agreed. "I do not suppose that it does. Go change. I will be right here."

I took the luggage off the sled and moved toward my room, though I paused in that doorway to look back at him. "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"Thank you, for everything." I allowed my door to slide shut between us, without waiting for any response.

**(=A=)**

Sickbay was surprisingly quiet when Data and I arrived there, despite it being late afternoon, ship's time. I wasn't actually holding his hand, of course, but he was hovering pretty nearby. He'd obviously called the counselor's office to inform her of when we were arriving, because Counselor Troi herself met us in the corridor outside.

"Hello, Zoe," she greeted in her 'professional' voice. "I thought you'd be here a little earlier."

" _Someone_ decided I should eat something before I came," I grumbled, though it was a perfunctory grumble. "He was probably right," I admitted.

Actually, Data had ensured that a spinach and mushroom omelet was waiting for me in the cleaned-up living space when I'd emerged from my room showered and dressed in fresh clothing: a comfortably worn pair of jeans, ancient canvas sneakers, and a Beach Haven Yacht Club tank-top. He'd sat opposite me at my mother's dining table, informing me that he had observed me eating such food more than once in Ten-Forward, and that he had noticed my tendency to become 'a bit unpleasant,' which was android for 'really cranky,' when I was hungry. I'd tried to ignore the fact that he knew me that well, allowed that good food shouldn't be wasted, and pretty much devoured the omelet.

Only then had he agreed to take me to see my mother.

I should have known I was being set up.

The counselor laughed, and it lit up her whole face. "Data has a tendency to be right far too often," she said.

"Yeah, for someone who claims he has no emotions, he's kind of a mother-hen," I agreed. "But I'm pretty sure you're not here to discuss your colleagues right in front of them."

She sobered instantly. "No," she said. "I'm not."

"I'm kind of flattered though," I said. "I was expecting one of your staff, not you."

Her smile returned, though in a more subdued fashion. "Anyone who can convince Data to open his door in the middle of the night deserves my direct attention." She said it lightly, but there was seriousness underlying her words. "Data, would you mind leaving us for a while? I'm sure you have duties to attend to."

"I do," he said. "However, I promised Zoe I would stay with her if she needed me."

Part of me wanted him to stay, but the better part of me knew I was being ridiculous. "I'm good," I told him. "Don't let me keep you."

"If you are certain…" he began.

"I am," I said. "I promise."

"Very well."

He turned and left and I refocused my attention on Counselor Troi. "Was that weird, just now?" I asked her, not really expecting an answer. "I mean…was he…"

"…expressing affection for his favorite student?" she asked, with a hint of something like amusement. "It would seem he was. We can talk about that later, if you like. Now, let me tell you what to expect when we see your mother. Beverly – Doctor Crusher – will join us in a moment."

"Okay," I said. "Let's do this."

She led me into sickbay, and then out the back way to the private rooms. "Most of the people injured in the battle with the Borg are recovering in their quarters," she told me. "There weren't a lot of truly serious physical injuries. A few have been relocated to Starfleet Medical."

"From what Data told me, my mother's sort of between the two extremes? Bad enough to be kept sedated, but not so bad she needs a dirtside ICU?"

"That's essentially correct. Were you also told that we asked you to come back so that she would have you for support?"

"Yeah," I said. "That I knew. Counselor, may I ask a question?"

"Ask away," she said, "and call me Deanna, please?"

"Is she really improving?"

"She really is. And having you here really will help." We didn't go into her room though. Instead the counselor – Deanna – led me to a small conference table in a really tiny room. "Have a seat, Beverly should be here in a moment."

And just like that, she was. "Hi, Zoe," she greeted, and for that split-second she was my classmate's mother, and not the CMO of the _Enterprise._ "You're looking tan and healthy."

I managed a real grin. "You should see T'vek…I think he's still trying to get salt out of his ears."

"I heard you taught him to surf."

"Yeah," I said. "I did. It was awesome."

"Good. I'm glad. Okay," and her professional demeanor slipped into place as she sat down, "let me tell you what's going on with your mother."

She explained that the plasma burns had covered forty percent of Mom's body, mostly her back and arms. Her face had been spared. She'd received skin grafts, and was being kept on a cocktail of nutrients, basic fluids and painkillers. "She's pretty weak," the doctor added softly, "and it's only this morning that she's been awake for longer than a few minutes, but the worst is over, and over the next three or four weeks, she'll be improving pretty much daily."

"Are there going to be tubes and needles and things?" I asked.

"She had a tube to help her breathe," Doctor Crusher explained. I tensed, listening, and the counselor covered my hand with hers. I allowed it…comfort was comfort. "We removed that a few hours ago, but her throat is pretty raw, so she may not be able to speak much. We've got an IV attached to her – you know what that means, right?"

"I do," I said. "I mean, I've seen them, and stuff."

"Good."

"Can I see her now?" I always gave up good grammar when I was stressed or worried.

"You may," the doctor agreed. "She's right next door. Would you like one of us to go with you?"

I thought about it for a moment. "I'm honestly not sure," I said. "Is she awake?"

The counselor gave me her softest smile. "Let's go find out, shall we?"

**(=A=)**

It's a scary thing to see the person who is supposed to care for you unable to even care for herself. When you have a parent in Starfleet, even when you're someone like me who pretends to be disinterested in most of the protocol and hierarchy, and all that, you live with the knowledge that you could lose your parent at any time. You live with the knowledge that there may be missions from which they may not return. You live with the specter of a catastrophic injury hanging over everything and you try to live your life as if that specter didn't exist, as if it was _normal_ for people to beam into strange situations once a week.

All the knowledge in the entire Federation, however, doesn't prepare you for the cold, harsh, fact of seeing the person who is supposed to be your guardian lying in a bio-bed looking small, and fragile, and like they are missing a vital part of their own essence.

Doctor Crusher and Counselor Troi walked with me into my mother's room, and I saw the monitors, and heard the beeping of machines, and saw the bag of nutrient fluids with its tube going to my mother's arm. "She's sedated," I heard the doctor say behind me. "But she'll hear you if you speak to her."

I nodded absently, then moved forward. There was a chair next to the bio-bed and I sat in it. "Mom?" I said softly. "Hey. I just spent two and a half days on a Starfleet transport vessel. After that, I might never complain about living here again."

There was no response, and I glanced toward the doctor and the counselor. "Keep talking, Zoe," Troi told me.

"So, Tev and I survived Dad's wedding. Did you know Vulcan-Betazoid boys look awesome in tuxedos? We even danced, but that was decidedly less awesome. Uncle Zane thinks I should take ballroom dancing lessons. Then again, he also suggested I dye my hair pink, and we both know _that's_ not happening any time soon."

"You can hold her hand, if you're very gentle," the doctor told me.

Gingerly, I took my mother's hand in mine. The skin on her arm was shiny – a mix of plas-skin and the grafts I'd been told about – but her hand looked normal. Pale. But normal. "We did a lot of surfing. I can't wait for you to see how tan I am. Seriously, I may have to take up the whole fake-and-bake thing just to keep the look going. T'vek, by the way, is _not_ a natural surfer, but shaggy wet hair and pointy Vulcanoid ears are kind of hot."

I felt really silly talking to her this way, but I figured light chatter was better than telling her that her fifteen-ear-old daughter had been de-virginized by said shaggy-haired, pointy-eared boy. "Gran sends her love," I added. "She said to tell you that you're still family to her, because you're family to me."

My mother's hand twitched in mind, and the monitors started flickering differently. I saw her eyes move back and forth beneath their closed lids, and then I saw her mouth working. "Zoe?" she croaked through parched lips. "…that you?"

"Yeah, mom. In the flesh."

"Thought you were staying on Centaurus…"

"I thought about it," I admitted, because Dad and I _had_ had that conversation. "I decided I should at least finish the school year. I mean, I'm determined to get a solid 'A' in Data's class this term."

She emitted something that would have been a chuckle under other circumstances, and while it clearly took some effort, managed to open her eyes. I stood up so she could see me without turning her head. "…thought you came home because you couldn't stand being away from me…"

I grinned. "Well," I said. "That might have been a factor."

We talked for a while longer, until my mother said she was tired. I told her I loved her, and let Doctor Crusher and Counselor Troi pull me away after that, but they promised Mom would be better and stronger in the morning, and, oddly, that helped. It also helped to know I could visit with her, and maybe even bring lunch in.

"Ordinarily," the counselor told me, as we walked together toward the turbo-lift, "I'd ask you to come with me right now, and have a talk in my office, but I've just finished with a rather intense patient, and I need a break as much as you probably do."

"You were counseling the captain, weren't you?" I asked. "I mean… I know, it's probably a secret and stuff, but…"

She turned her dark eyes – eyes that were a lot like T'vek's actually – on me, as if she was gauging how much she could trust me. "I was," she said.

"Is he… will he still be the captain of this ship?"

"He will," she assured me. "Have you met him?"

"Only very briefly, one time in sick bay, and the night Data introduced me to all of you, after the concert. Oh, and I ran into him in a turbo-lift, once." We were actually approaching one as I said that. "He's kind of intimidating."

Her smile broadened. "He can be," she agreed, "but I've heard if you vomit on his boots, it may help." I blushed, and she was kind enough to change the subject. "What are your plans for the evening?"

"I hadn't thought that far," I said. "Tev's probably spending time with his family, and I'm not sure my friends even know I'm back aboard. I guess it's back home for replicator food and a book."

"Or," she said, "you could join me for dinner in Ten-Forward."

"I'm not exactly dressed for it," I said, and then added, "and I wouldn't want to impose."

She stared at me. "The ship is in Spacedock, which means things are a little more casual than usual. Commander Riker's in charge for the next two weeks, by the way, and you didn't seem intimidated by him the night of the concert."

"Um, no, I guess not. Mostly, I was just embarrassed. I felt like Data was showing me off, or something."

"He was," she said. "He's never really had a protégé. He certainly hasn't ever counted a student among his friends."

"You say that as if he's been teaching for years. I thought our tutorial was new, created just for Wes?"

"It was, and it wasn't," she said. "Most of the senior officers teach classes from time to time – not always in the high school, but… you know Lt. Worf offers several self-defense courses, and Dr. Crusher leads the theater group."

"Well, yes…"

"Data, too, has taught other classes. But your tutorial was – is – the first time he's been involved with the school."

"Oh, okay." The 'lift stopped, and I realized we were at Ten-Forward, after all. "But Wes is his friend…"

"Yes," she allowed, leading me through the double doors. "But their friendship came about from shared bridge duty, and is more collegial, in nature, whereas Data's relationship with you is…"

"Affectionate?"

"And organic." She stopped at the table where Commander Riker was already seated. "Hello, Will," she greeted. "You remember Zoe Harris."

"Of course," he said. "Welcome home. How's your mother?"

"She spoke to me," I said, "so that's good."

"I've invited Zoe to join us for dinner, as she's on her own while her mother recuperates."

Riker's polite smile broadened into a truly friendly grin. "Excellent," he said. "I've been looking forward to meeting Data's protégé."

I took the seat they seemed to want me in, groaning inwardly. Apparently being Data's protégé was more of a thing than I knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By January 5th, 2367, Picard was in France with his brother, and the Enterprise was at Spacedock for repairs and re-fits. Space medicine means accelerated healing, even for plasma burns, but don't expect Zoe's mother to be out of sickbay immediately or anything. Also, while Lt. Cmdr. Marek is my creation, Data's service record (per Memory Alpha, and other sources) supports a previous posting on the Trieste.


	28. Limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While her mother is still in Sickbay, Zoe finds herself in a kind of personal limbo.

**Stardate 44013.07**

**(Thursday, 5 January 2367, 18:30 hours, ship's time)**

_Counselor Troi stopped at the table where Commander Riker was already seated. "Hello, Will," she greeted. "You remember Zoe Harris."_

_"Of course," he said. "Welcome home. How's your mother?"_

_"She spoke to me," I said, "so that's good."_

_"I've invited Zoe to join us for dinner, as she's on her own while her mother recuperates."_

_Riker's polite smile broadened into a truly friendly grin. "Excellent," he said. "I've been looking forward to meeting Data's protégé."_

_I took the seat they seemed to want me in, groaning inwardly. Apparently being Data's protégé was more of a thing than I knew._

"Of course," Riker continued once I was seated, "we've already met, haven't we?" The question was rhetorical. We both knew we had. "So, let me rephrase. I've been looking forward to getting to know Data's protégé."

"If I ever start a rock band," I responded, "I'm totally using that as the name – Data's Protégé." I was kidding, but the more I thought about it, the more I thought it had kind of a cool ring to it. Commander Riker's expression remained open, but I realized after I'd spoken that I didn't really know him well enough to joke that way. "I'm sorry," I said. "It's just I keep hearing people refer to me that way, and it isn't really true."

"Isn't it?" Riker asked. The counselor, I noted, remained quiet, observing us.

"Well, no. I mean, it implies that I'm another cookie-cutter kid trying to impress officers to get into the Academy – not that doing what you all do is bad, or anything, it's just – "

"Not you?" he asked.

"Well… yeah."

"That's fair," he said. "But consider, Data's never really taken such a special interest in anyone before. He's tutoring you in math and music theory; he's got you playing in his quartet, and I heard you were the one who got him to talk after that whole thing with Kivas Fajo."

"I don't think that had anything to do with me," I said, glancing at Counselor Troi to see if she had anything to offer. She seemed content to observe. "I mean, I think he was just ready." I shrugged. "Whatever." Sometimes resorting to typical teenaged behavior was the best way to shut down an uncomfortable conversation.

The counselor and the commander shared a look, but I wasn't sure what it meant. "Are you uncomfortable with the thought that you might be having as significant an impact on Data as he's having on you?" Troi asked.

"No," I said. "Well, yes. Kind of. I don't know." I used the arrival of the waiter to formulate a better answer to her question, but not until I'd ordered a chicken Caesar salad and a glass of sparkling water with lime. "I guess I just feel weird about over-analyzing a friendship with someone who's never been anything but kind to me."

"You've used that word twice now," she observed. "You wondered earlier if I thought Data's behavior toward you was weird."

"Yeah," I said. "I did. But 'weird' wasn't really the right word. Inappropriate might be more accurate. Mom thinks I spend too much time with him. That I'm imposing on his good nature, or something."

She shared another look with Riker, then asked me, in true psychologist mode, "What do you think?"

I resisted the urge to shrug and utter some inane teenager-ism, again. Slowly and carefully, I picked my way to a real answer. "I guess… he's reminded me more than once that we're friends. If that's true, it has to also be true that if I _was_ in his way or imposing on his time, that he'd tell me."

"And?" she prompted.

"And?" I was blank for a moment. "Oh. I guess I do worry that people will think our friendship is inappropriate, but I know it's not. We just… he just… gets me. Spending time with him is easy. I don't have to be the child people expect me to be, but I don't have to be entirely grown up, either."

"So, what you're saying," Troi said slowly, "is that Data takes you at face value?"

"Yeah," I said. "I guess. I mean, he doesn't always understand slang or pop culture references, but once he _does_ he actually appreciates my sense of humor. And he explains things in a way that makes them make sense. Math, I mean. And theory. I think I must frustrate him though. I've always been more intuitive than technical when it comes to music."

Riker chuckled and Troi's smile broadened. "I think," she said, "that you're both good for each other, and that you're right. Data will tell you if you take up too much of his time."

"He cleaned up the mess in my – mom's – quarters today. I feel a little like I took advantage of him. I mean, I could've done it."

"Did you tell him that?"

"Yes. He seemed to want to help."

"I think he was expressing concern for you in the best way he could," she said.

"Yeah, probably. Especially since his hugging skills need serious improvement."

Commander Riker interrupted to ask, "Hugging skills?"

"It's nothing. I kind of had a meltdown when I saw everything all topsy-turvy and when he asked what he could do I told him I really needed a hug. I think I cried a couple of liters of tears all over his shirt. Please tell me mascara stains wash out of uniform fabric?"

"I have it on excellent authority that they do," he assured me just gravely enough to elicit a smile.

"Good to know," I said, feeling a bit more like myself. "Are you really assigning some poor member of the counseling staff to babysit me until my mother's out of sickbay?" I asked, then, more to change the subject than anything else.

"That depends," Troi answered. "Do you want a babysitter? Data seemed to think you were better off without one."

"He mentioned that. I guess I'd like to know there was someone I could call if I have a nightmare and can't get back to sleep because being alone feels too creepy," I said. "But I don't really need someone sleeping on the couch, or anything. I mean, what if I want T'vek to come over. It'd totally cramp my style."

I'm pretty sure they could both tell I was mostly teasing. "Mmm, you're what, fifteen? A bit young for having male guests overnight, I'd say." That was from the commander.

"I'll be sixteen in three weeks," I said. "And it's not like we've never – um – never mind."

But they were laughing, though it wasn't a malicious sort of laughter. "Oh, Zoe. We were both teenagers not that long ago. How about this: you agree to check in with me in the mornings, and to send T'vek back to his parents by midnight, and I'm pretty sure we already have a volunteer if you need something in the middle of the night."

"You mean Data." It wasn't a question. I'd known from the beginning they were setting me up for this. I waited for a confirming nod from the counselor anyway. When I got it, I said, "He's cool with this plan? I mean… you said the Captain was off the ship… isn't he kind of busy?"

"Haven't we agreed that he cares about you, in his way? Data makes time for his friends, Zoe, whether or not they're his protégé."

"Okay, okay. I want to hear from him that he's on board with being my… go-to guy, or whatever… while Mom recovers, but if he says it's cool, I'm good. But please, please, don't ever call me his protégé again. I'd rather be known just for being myself."

Riker grinned. "And we're back to where we started. Getting to know Data's… friend." He made a point of selecting a new term. So, do you only play classical music?"

Our meals were delivered before I could answer, but it didn't matter, because the rest of the evening was spent in light chat about Favorite Musical Performers, Great Meals We Had Known, and Best Surfing Experiences, although Counselor Troi and I might have had a conversation about the importance of designer shoes at one point. By the end of dinner, I felt like I'd spent a couple of hours with a favorite aunt and uncle, and not two of the most senior officers on the _Enterprise._

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44013.24**

**(Thursday, 5 January 2367, 20:00 hours, ship's time)**

T'vek was waiting for me when I arrived back at my quarters. Commander Riker and Counselor Troi, whom I still couldn't call 'Deanna,' unless she reminded me, had stayed with me as far as the turbo-lift, and then bid me goodnight, with a reminder to check in with her the next morning, and the further reminder that I should contact Data before I went to bed. I'd rolled my eyes at the latter, but agreed, mostly because it was the expedient thing to do.

"I've been looking for you for hours," Tev said by way of a greeting. "Where were you? Why haven't you been answering comms?"

"Gee, honey, it's good to see you, too," I snarked before I realized what I was saying. Immediately, I was chagrinned. "I'm sorry," I said. "It's been a really long, really weird day. Do you want to come in and talk?"

My minor outburst didn't seem to faze him, and he moved closer to me, laying a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, too," he said. "I disappeared with my father and barely even looked back. How's your mom?"

"Bad," I said as we walked through the doors. "Really bad. She's got no energy, they had to graft skin, and use plas-skin, and there are tubes and monitors and…" I took a deep breath. "They say she's actually improving, though."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I've been trying to comm you all afternoon and evening. Father wanted me to invite you to dinner, and mother said you were welcome to stay with us if you wanted to."

"I didn't have my padd," I said, collapsing on the couch.

"Um, hi? Remember those lovely, lovely comm-badges we were issued a couple months back?"

"Oh, right, that… I left mine in my drawer before we went to my dad's. I didn't even think about putting it on today. It was… everything was toppled and knocked over."

"Everything?"

"The living room furniture… a bunch of stuff in my room. I haven't looked at mom's room yet. Data was kind enough to clean up for me."

"It's good he was here for you," T'vek said, moving closer and wrapping his arm around me. "I should have been."

"No," I said. "You needed to see _your_ family, and honestly, there wasn't much you could have done. How is T'rella, anyway?"

"Mostly better," he said. "She's on bed-rest through tomorrow, confined to quarters for two more days after that, and then she can resume light duty."

"That's good. If it's alright, I'll stop by tomorrow and pay my respects."

"She'd like that," he said. "I think she misses female companionship."

"I bet she does," I agreed. I kicked off my shoes and tucked my feet up, leaning into T'vek's embrace. "I had a meltdown in front of Data earlier. His hugs do not compare to yours."

"Oh, Zoe…"

"I'm not blaming you, I just… I don't know. All day I've felt like I'm in some weird sort of Limbo… all out of sorts and out of place. I didn't realize how much I've been relying on you and Mom until I didn't have either of you. And then there was all this stuff with Counselor Troi analyzing my friendship with Data."

"Oh?" I couldn't tell if he was jealous or just interested.

"Oh, don't worry. No one's concerned he's going to kidnap me and seduce me or anything. People just keep calling me his protégé and it was weirding me out, and… well, I ended up having dinner with her and Commander Riker, which was also weird, but in a different way."

"Wow," he said, arching an eyebrow at me. "Impressive. My girlfriend is moving up in the world."

"Stop that," I said, punching him lightly with the hand that wasn't curled against him. "They just felt sorry for the girl who had no one to take care of her tonight, and didn't want me to be alone."

His dark eyes scanned my face for several seconds. "It feels like everything we know is about to change. Classes are suspended until the ship breaks orbit, which might be a month, but might be longer. Dana, Annette, and Josh are all with their families in temporary housing, by the way. They'll be back on the ship in a day or so."

"But they're okay, right?"

"Yeah, they're fine. We can comm them in the morning."

"Good to know."

"Zoe… would you rather I not be here? You're acting kind of… I don't know… distant."

I shook my head, and squirmed closer to him. "I'm just tired," I said, "and a little bit in shock, still. Can you just… can you just hold me, please?" I wasn't accustomed to asking for support. More weirdness. But it was weirdness that came with a very warm, very attractive boy attached, so I decided to just accept it and move on.

We stayed like that, just holding each other and talking, until midnight or so, when Tev's comm-badge chirped, and his father asked him to please return to quarters.

"Are you sure you're okay here alone?" T'vek asked, lingering at the door. "I could convince my parents to let me stay - just to sleep - or you could come back with me."

I put my hands on either side of his face, and met his eyes directly. "I promise, I'll be fine," I said. "If you stay, I'll want more than 'just sleeping' and if I go with you, being that close to you and not being able to touch you will feel worse than being alone."

He pulled me close and kissed me, hard. "I'll worry," he said.

"I'll be fine. I've spent lots of nights alone here while Mom's been on duty, and slept just fine."

"Okay," he said, adding, "I wouldn't be able to 'just sleep' either."

I grinned at that. "So I'll see you in the morning? We'll have breakfast or something?"

"Stellar," he said. He kissed me again, and then left, and I stood there like an idiot staring at the sealed door for another five minutes, at least.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44016.67**

**(Saturday, 7 January 2367, 02:07 hours, ship's time)**

_I woke up to the sound of dripping water, and opened my eyes to find my room bathed in eerie green light. There were no klaxons going off, but the air in the room felt damp and dank, like something out of one of the horror vids I was so fond of._

_After blinking for several seconds, I realized that the light was emanating, not from the living space beyond my closed bedroom door, but from my bathroom, which meant that was likely the source of the dripping sound. "But I took a_ **_sonic_ ** _shower last night," I reminded myself. Water showers were discouraged most of the time aboard ship, but especially so when we were in Spacedock._

_I sat in bed for a minute or two, weighing my options: I could stay in bed, pull the covers over my head, and pretend nothing was wrong, waiting for whatever was lurking in the bathroom to find me, I could make a dash for the living quarters and the outer door beyond, and make a run for it, or I could go investigate the bathroom. It was probably just a toothbrush charger glowing weirdly, after all._

_Horror fan or not, I went with option three, even though I knew this trope: the teenager hears a noise or sees a light, goes to investigate, and ends up eviscerated…or worse. Even so, I slipped out of bed, and began my slow advancement toward the bathroom. Just like in a horror vid, I was dressed in clothing that was completely inappropriate for the occasion: an old white cotton t-shirt that had once been my father's, hot pink panties, and bare feet. I made a mental note that if I lived, I'd make a point of sleeping in tank tops and yoga pants from then on, just in case._

_The bathroom door slid open with a reluctant, rusty,_ **_whirr_ ** _, just as I reached the proximity sensor, and the green light deepened, though I couldn't make out actual shapes or forms. I stepped through the door, and it slid shut behind me with an electric sizzle that, I knew, meant I wouldn't be able to escape._

_"Hello, Zoe," a black-clad form stepped out from the shower enclosure, its voice a combination of my mother's voice and that of Picard-as-Locutus, which latter I'd been made familiar with by endless news reports. "We've been waiting for you."_

_"I thought only royalty got to use 'we' to mean 'I,'" I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Banter was the only weapon I had._

_"We are one and many," that spooky voice continued, the shambling steps coming closer, but taking longer than they should have. My bathroom was seriously not that big._

_"Wait," I quipped, "you are Legion? Well, that explains a lot." I wanted to back away, but I knew there was nowhere to go. Instead, I drew myself up to my full height, forcing myself to ignore the green slime and accordion-conduit tendrils slithering around my ankles._

_"Come closer, dear," the creature said. It was close enough, finally, for me to tell it was essentially humanoid. "It is time for you to join the Borg." More tendrils appeared, pinning me to the sealed bathroom door. "It is time for you to join your distinctiveness with our own."_

_"It is_ **_time_ ** _," I said, matching the Borg-thing's tone, "for you to fuck off!" I tried to kick out with one of my feet, but the tendrils held me fast._

_"Language, Zoe," the creature responded, inclining its head toward me. The features swam and changed: Mom, Locutus, Data. "Resistance is futile," it continued, morphing again, until the face resolved into the features of the boy I loved. In T'vek's voice it added, "Give us a kiss," and the black lips surrounded by gray flesh descended upon my own._

_I couldn't help it. I screamed._

I was still screaming when I suddenly found myself lying in my bed, in the normal, decidedly not-green semi-darkness of my room on the _Enterprise._ "Computer, lights, full illumination."

The computer complied.

"Ouch, bright! Reduce illumination by twenty percent!" The light dimmed accordingly, and I was able to open my eyes again. No sound of water, no green light, and no funky air. I'd been dreaming. But I was shaking, and suddenly the concept of a babysitter seemed less insulting than it had when I'd first returned to the ship.

"Computer, what time is it?" I asked, even though there was a display a head-turn away.

- _Ship's time is oh-two-oh-seven hours._

I'd gone to bed around ten-thirty, after dinner and board games with Tev and his family. T'rella was supposed to be resting, but insisted they come spend time with me in my own quarters. It was as much to assure her that I was competent to care for myself, as it was to give her a change of scenery, I thought.

At least the early end to the evening meant I'd gotten some sleep. I eyed my much-hated comm-badge, which glinted at me from the top of my dresser. "Computer, tell me the location of Lt. Commander Data."

_\- Lt. Commander Data is in his quarters._

I jumped out of bed, retrieved the comm-badge, and then returned to the safety of my blankets. I was about to actually take Data up on his offer to call for help when another thought occurred to me. "Computer, is Lieutenant Commander Data alone in his quarters?"

_\- Affirmative._

I tapped the badge, and spoke the words that would bring… well, companionship, at least.

_"Data here. Zoe, what is wrong?"_

I blushed, and was immediately glad he wasn't there to see. "It's stupid," I began. "I had a nightmare, and I know it wasn't real, and I know I'm actually safe, but… I feel kind of edgy and creeped out, and… could you maybe just come and sit with me for a little bit. Um, if you're not busy."

His response was immediate. _"I am on my way. Data out."_

I got out of bed again, and pulled a pair of sweatpants on under the shirt I'd been sleeping in. My hair was a mess, but I didn't care. I padded out to the living room, wrapped myself in the chenille throw that we kept on the couch, and waited for his arrival. When the door chime activated a few minutes later, I didn't even get up to greet him, just called, "Come in," and waited.

"Greetings," he said, defaulting to the phrase, I had learned, was the one he used when he wasn't certain what else might be appropriate.

"Hey," I said softly. "I'm really sorry to have bothered you… I just… I need to not be alone for a little while."

He came all the way into the room. "It is no bother," he said. "How can I help?"

I shrugged. "Talk to me? I'm all on-edge and off-kilter and, I know it's silly to be going all melodramatic over a nightmare, but…" I stopped myself, and then continued in a slower, more controlled tone. "Usually, I revel in solitude, but _usually_ , I know my mother's just working, and not stuck in a bio-bed, doped on painkillers."

"I have read that discussing a disturbing dream often helps the lingering effects to dissipate more quickly. Would you like to tell me what you dreamed?"

"Do you promise not to mock me if I do?"

"Zoe, you know that I cannot mo – " he cut himself off, probably as a reaction to the look I'd given him. "I promise," he said instead.

I nodded. "Okay." But I was still hesitant.

"Is there something else wrong?" Data asked, his tone as concerned as I'd ever heard it.

"Would you mind if we had tea while we talk. It's… It's probably just me projecting, but, tea and conversation feels like a thing. Our thing. Almost a ritual."

Data's head-tilt told me he was considering what I said. Not the tea itself, but the rest. "You are not 'projecting,'" he told me in that matter-of-fact, so-sayeth-me way he had of stating truths. "It is indeed 'our thing,' though I am not certain it is truly a ritual yet."

"Yet?"

"I believe practices require a great many iterations before they pass into ritual," he stated as he moved toward the food slot. "At this hour, it would be wise for you to refrain from tea varietals containing caffeine. Your most common preference is mint. Is that acceptable?"

"Spearmint, please," I said. "With honey."

He ordered it, waited, and brought it to the coffee table. I moved into the corner of the couch, leaving him room. "Will you tell me, now, what you dreamed?"

I reached for one of the teacups, swirled honey into the amber liquid and then sat back against the arm of the couch, cradling the cup in both hands. It was hot, but not so much that it burned my skin, and the heat was comforting. "It started with the sound of dripping water, and weird greenish light," I began, telling him as much as I remembered.

Data sat silently while I related my nightmare, but when I was finished, he did something unexpected: he reached for my empty cup, set it aside, and then took one of my hands in his.

"Data?" I stared at our clasped hands.

"I have observed that physical contact between friends is often reassuring. Am I mistaken?"

I adjusted my hand within his. "No. Just… unexpected. I'm usually the one initiating physical contact with you, and… usually reassuring physical contact is done with a hug, not hand-holding."

"Do you require a hug now?"

I grinned. "No, I'm okay for the moment. But thanks for offering." I didn't withdraw my hand, though. His touch _was_ oddly comforting.

"Did sharing your nightmare help you to feel better?" he asked.

"A little, I guess. I mean, it's less immediate now. If you need to go, I think I could probably sleep okay."

"I do not 'need to go,'" he said. "Would you feel less 'off-kilter' if I reminded you that Captain Picard was recovered from the Borg, or told you that he, himself, provided the key to their defeat?"

"He did?"

"He did."

"Are you allowed to tell me how?"

"I am not," he said. "Does it matter?"

"Not really." I watched him for a moment, and suddenly I knew – I don't know how, but I just knew – that he'd been instrumental in whatever had been done. "It was you, wasn't it? The captain may have provided the 'how' but the 'what' was all you." It wasn't a question.

He seemed a bit uncomfortable with my assertion, but then, maybe that time I really _was_ just projecting. "That is not an entirely inaccurate assessment," he confirmed.

I squeezed his hand, feeling the smoothness of his skin against mine. "You are probably Creation's only callous-free violinist," I observed, both because it suddenly struck me as being true, and because I wanted to change the subject. "My hands are usually a mess." And then something else struck me, "What did you do with the pieces of my cello?"

"I removed them to my quarters, where I hope to determine whether or not the instrument can be repaired. I had not realized it was not a replicated piece."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "So you're a luthier now, as well? Is there anything you can't do?"

"There are many 'things' I am unable to do – I cannot float, for example. Repairing your cello, however, is well within my capabilities, should the pieces allow it. I am afraid my duties to the ship and to you have prevented me from –" He stopped when I abruptly pulled my hand from his. "Zoe, have I said something wrong?"

"You said I was just another duty to you," I said, stung. "Either we're friends, or we're not, and that's fine, but I'd rather not be anyone's 'assignment.'"

As always, he was calm and collected when he responded, "I do not understand." Unsaid, but clearly meant, were the words _how I have offended you_.

"Duty," I recited, carefully _not_ imitating the tone he often used at such times, "job, task, assignment, mission, function, responsibility, obligation." I turned away from him, so he wouldn't see the tears welling in my eyes.

He used his hand to gently turn my face back toward his. "Those definitions are correct," he stated softly. "But there are others that you have missed: allegiance, commitment, faithfulness, fidelity, homage, loyalty…"

"Okay, okay," I said. "I get it. I misconstrued, and I'm sorry." He dropped his hand, and for a moment, I wanted to slip my own back into it, but I chose not to, afraid the moment of connection had been lost. "I kind of overreacted, didn't I?"

"I believe so," he agreed. "However, you are tired and stressed, so I will not 'hold it against you.'"

That made me smile, but my smile widened into a yawn. "I _am_ tired," I agreed. "And I have to check in with Counselor Troi in the morning, so I'd better try to sleep some more. Please don't tell her, but I'm kind of regretting that I balked about having one of her staff spend the nights here, after all."

"I will not tell her," he promised. "If you are averse to being alone, however, I will remain here. I have," he reminded me, "guarded your sleep before."

"Yeah, for like two hours when I was sick. And I felt bad about asking you then."

"You are not asking; I am offering."

"You're not likely to let me win if I try to argue you out of staying, are you?"

"No."

"Fine," I said, and while I was acting as if the notion perturbed me, the reality was that I was relieved. Who better to guard you from nightmares than a person who didn't ever sleep? "You won't…none of my friends will know I was too chicken to stay alone, will they?" I hedged, even as I was unwrapping myself from the throw, and preparing to leave the room.

"It will be our secret," he assured.

"Okay." I got up from the couch, and padded back to my room, stopping in the doorway to turn back toward him. "Goodnight, Data," I said.

"Goodnight, Zoe. Pleasant dreams," he responded.

Actually, for the rest of the night, they kind of were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am aware that in Insurrection Data demonstrates his ability to be used as a flotation device. I always thought that choice was lazy writing, and kind of stupid, not to mention it contradicts events mentioned in the series, so we're going to pretend that never happens. (And at this point in their story, it hasn't.).


	29. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe and T'vek reunite with their friends, have a free day on Earth, and meet someone new as well; Zoe's mother takes a turn for the worse.

**Stardate 44028.42**

**(Wednesday, 11 January 2367, 08:57 hours, ship's time)**

"Zoe, go do something with your friends," my mother urged me during my morning visit to her room adjacent to sickbay. "You've been so good about coming and spending time with me, but frankly, kiddo, you're driving me crazy."

I laughed at that, "Frankly, Mom, I really suck at being companion to a sickie."

I was joking, mostly, but the reality was that for the past five days, I'd fallen into a routine: up at six; breakfast with Data, who having insisted that lurking in our living room working on padds and other quiet projects was not 'causing any significant delays in my work,' was therefore acting as a sort of guardian/babysitter during the nights; check in with Counselor Troi; spend the morning visiting Mom; meet T'vek and our friends for lunch; visit mom for another couple of hours, have dinner with T'vek's family; have some combination of friends over for a couple of hours, or, the night before, _only_ T'vek, in what was absolutely a booty call, and the first time we'd made love since we were back on the ship; and finally tea with Data around midnight every night, which, oddly was becoming my favorite part of my life in limbo.

"Actually," Dr. Crusher had put in, as she buzzed about the room checking readings and making sure my mother's recovery really was going as well as it appeared to be, "that's not a bad idea. Wes has leave today; why don't you and your friends check out a shuttle and spend some time in Cabo San Lucas or San Francisco or…"

"Santa Cruz," I said, immediately. "I want to go to Santa Cruz. They restored the boardwalk last year, and they have a vintage wooden coaster I really want to ride." T'vek and I had done extensive research on roller coasters as part of a class project before the holidays. "What could be better than an amusement park on the beach?"

"I'll contact Wes for you," the doctor said, smiling. "I'm sure all of you could stand a chance for some fresh air and fun, especially since the holodecks aren't operational yet."

The post Starfleet vs. Zombie _Enterprise_ was still undergoing repairs and refits, and it looked like we had at least another two weeks before breaking orbit, and while my friends, Dana, Josh, and Annette, had finally been allowed back aboard, there was precious little for us to do with half the ship either non-functional or off-limits. "That would be awesome," I said, and then glanced back at Mom, "if you really don't mind."

"I'd mind more if you stayed," she said honestly. "Zoe, I love you, and I appreciate all the time you've spent here, but honestly, I'm very tired, and the only thing I can think of now is sleep."

"Hmph," I said, in mock annoyance. "My own mother doesn't want me. See if I care." But I kissed her on the cheek before I turned to leave.

"Drama queen!" my mother called

"Takes one to know one," I responded good-naturedly.

By the time I returned to my quarters Wesley had already arranged for the six of us - Dana's father had actually given his permission – to spend the day dirtside.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44028.93**

**(Wednesday, 11 January 2367, 1:30 PM, PST)**

**Santa Cruz, California, Earth**

"So tell us," T'vek asked as the six of us were having lunch in a restaurant at the very end – and two stories above – the Santa Cruz Municipal Pier, "how scary was it being on the ship during the whole Borg thing?"

Wes looked away for a moment, while the rest of our friends also hesitated. Finally, Dana said, "I don't know about everyone else, but I was terrified. Especially after they made us all go to emergency locations on the innermost decks."

"Yeah," Annette agreed. "That was really uncomfortable. Also, there was a lot of shaking, every time the ship took a hit."

"You were on the bridge for some of it, weren't you, Wes?" Josh asked. His use of our classmate's first name was new.

"I was," he said. "And in engineering. And honestly, I've never felt more like a kid than I did during the height of the battle. I thought I was ready for the uniform," he said softly. "Now I'm not so sure."

"I think," I said in a sober tone, "that if you're questioning your readiness, it means you actually are ready."

"What was it like for you guys?" Annette asked.

"The worst part," I answered after glancing at my boyfriend, "was the not-knowing. The various news nets were mostly repeating the same sound bites over and over, and some of the conjectures about what was actually happening…"

"Zoe actually invented a drinking game, at one point –" T'vek cut in.

"I seem to recall you being just as involved in that endeavor as I was," I said.

Josh interrupted both of us, "Now, now, children. You can bicker like an old married couple later. We need info: how _exactly_ does this drinking game work?"

Tev and I looked each other and laughed, and then I let him explain, because our soup had just appeared, and the restaurant we were in – The Sea Cloud – was famous for its clam chowder. "Well," he began, "you take one drink every time a news anchor mentions the Romulans or Breen, two drinks every time they bring on an 'expert,' and three if they manage to badmouth the captain."

"They were badmouthing Captain Picard?" If Wesley had possessed hackles, they'd have been raised.

"Calm down," Annette said, squeezing his arm.

"Oh, Wes," my tone was sympathetic. "You know they did – anyone would have, considering."

In a much less defensive voice he acknowledged. "Yeah, I guess."

Dana stepped in to lift the mood. "Happy thoughts," she said. "We have a party to plan."

"Party?" Josh asked. "I'm down with the concept of 'party.' Whose party? Why party?"

"Zoe's of course. She's turning sixteen in ten days."

"Ooh! Sweet sixteen and never been – " but Josh peered at me, and then at Tev, and then at me again, "well, sweet sixteen anyway."

Annette arched an eyebrow in my direction and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin to hide her grin. Dana simply ordered, "Talk. Later." Wes…was Wes. Still socially awkward and slightly oblivious, but well-meaning.

"I'm not sure I actually want a party," I said, causing all my friends to stare at me in shock. "What?"

"Aren't you the one who finds any excuse for a celebration?" That was from Josh, again. "Seriously, Zoe, you love parties more than I do." That was saying a lot. Once, while Josh's parents were on sabbatical, he'd thrown a three-day bender, that only ended when Lt. Worf noticed that someone had replicated a beer bong and left it in the corridor. Both the party and the punishment afterward were the stuff of legend among the younger members of the crew, and the older kids.

I shrugged, "I don't know, it seems…wrong…somehow."

"Well, how would you have celebrated your sweet sixteen back on Centaurus?" Dana asked.

"Oh…easy…bonfire on the beach and midnight surfing. But…you can't do that here, I don't think."

"Because the water's too cold?" T'vek asked, and I could tell he was thinking about how cold the water was on Centaurus, and how much colder the water off the coast of California would be in January.

"Because of sharks," I said. "I have no desire to become fish food on my special day."

Our waiter, an obvious townie, paused in clearing away our soup bowls to tell us, "Actually, we have really good shark repellents off Lighthouse Beach now. No one's even been nipped at in decades."

"Really?" I asked. "Are bonfires allowed?"

"Yeah, as long as you extinguish them completely before you leave. Do you all surf?"

"I grew up on the water – Beach Haven, Centaurus – T'vek learned the basics over Christmas. I'm not sure about…"

"Dude, I surf," Josh said. "And Dana's pretty awesome at swimming, at least on the holodeck."

My friend blushed, but pointed out, "Holodeck oceans are a _lot_ different than the real thing."

"So, bonfire, midnight surfing…what else. Food? Drinks?" Annette demanded. I got the feeling she was making a list.

"Music. Preferably a live band, but recorded is acceptable. Vintage rock – uber-vintage. Like, twentieth-century Terran beach rock. Burgers – beef or veggie, shrimp skewers, chips and salsa. Picnic-friendly party food."

"And cake, obviously," Dana added. I could tell that the boys were tuning out, but she and Annette seemed too eager to start planning.

"Chocolate," T'vek and I said together. "With orange or raspberry filling, and mocha buttercream frosting," I added.

"But you don't want a party," Josh said. "Yeah, right."

"Face it Zoe, you're just afraid other people will think it's inappropriate," Dana accused. But she smiled when she said it.

"Wes, do you think a celebration would be… do you think it's too soon?"

He may have been wearing civvies, but in that moment our classmate – our _friend –_ was every inch an officer. "I think it would be good to have something happy to plan," he said. "Something hopeful, and life affirming."

We toasted to that with iced tea and sparkling water, and skipped dessert in favor of boardwalk food.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44029.10**

**(Wednesday, 11 January 2367, 3:00 PM, PST)**

The boardwalk was mostly empty because it was January, even though the weather was fairly warm, but the rides were open, and the six of us, plus a few other people who were out for the day, enjoyed short queues, and our choice of seats on the roller coaster.

As dusk began to fall, T'vek and I walked down the stairs to the actual beach. We sat on the stairs and kicked our shoes off, and then walked barefoot along the shore, letting the cold surf flirt with our toes, but not really getting wet. Our friends were still exploring the amusement rides, but we knew they wouldn't leave without us.

"Is it weird," he asked, "having Data lurking in your living room while you sleep?"

I shook my head, "I thought it was going to be, but it's actually…he's actually…It's sort of comforting, knowing there's someone there. And he's happy to let me talk through the nightmares no matter how long it takes."

"Nightmares? Zoe, you didn't tell me you were having nightmares."

"You were kind of focused on your mother; I didn't want you to worry. And I was afraid you'd want to stay with me, and your parents would never allow it, and my mother wouldn't either, and I don't want to lie to them."

"But she knows we're… you know…"

"Sleeping together?"

"Well, yeah."

"Well, no."

His expression implied that I'd hurt him. "Zoe, I can't believe you haven't told her."

"How exactly was I supposed to break that news? 'Hi mom, so sorry half your skin is still figuring out how to reattach itself. By the way, my boyfriend de-virginized me over Christmas. Can I get you some tea?'" I turned my face out to sea, took a breath and asked in a calmer voice, "Have _you_ told _your_ parents?"

I turned back to him in time to catch his blush. "Yeah," he said roughly. "Yeah, I have. I had to."

"Had to? Why?"

"Because my mother is still on light painkillers, and that makes her telepathy wonky. Better to tell them outright than to have her sense it. Ditto Dad, only, you know, except the painkillers."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Were they mad?"

"Not really. I mean, they'd have preferred us to wait, but…"

"But no point in sealing the landing bay doors when the shuttle's already been launched?"

He laughed. "Yeah, pretty much." He looked down at our bare feet, and started so say something, but a large black dog came running up to us, jumping and yapping playfully. "Hey, stop that!"

"Sit," I told the dog, which instantly complied. I knelt down to pet him – he was definitely a boy – letting him sniff me, and then rubbing his chest. "You're a handsome boy," I said, glancing up at T'vek and grinning. "Where's your person?"

A couple of seconds later, a man in running clothes came jogging up to us. "Bogart, come here," he said to the dog. To us he said, "I'm sorry, did he hurt you?"

Bogart ignored the man, and stayed put in front of us, his tail thumping up sprays of sand. "We're fine," I said. "Just startled. Right Tev?"

T'vek grinned, "Yeah. He jumped us, but it's fine."

I stood up, wiping my hands on my jeans, noting that the man was older than I'd first thought…fifty or sixty, probably…. He also had dark brown hair and stormy grey eyes, and a slight accent – definitely European, possibly French. "Bogart is really handsome."

"Thank you, he knows that," the man said. "He's also a shameless flirt, as you can tell."

Bogart had planted himself right next to me, and was leaning into my leg. "I'm flattered, I think." I said, smiling. "Is he named after Humphrey?"

The man smiled, "You know vintage films, I see. But yes, he is. He is indeed." He extended his hand, "I'm Edouard Benoit. Call me Ed."

"I'm Zoe," I said, "Zoe Harris. This is T'vek Mairaj."

We shook hands all around, but then our comm-badges both chimed. I grimaced, and T'vek tapped his. "This is T'vek," he said. "Go ahead."

"Guys, it's Wes. We need to be heading back now. I promised my mother I'd meet her for a late dinner."

"We'll meet you at the carousel," Tev said. "Five minutes." To Ed, he said, "I'm afraid we have to go. It was nice meeting you and Bogart."

"Yes," I said. "It was lovely."

Ed grinned. "Bogart and I are pleased to make new acquaintances, but may I ask…aren't you a bit young to be assigned to a starship? Those _are_ Starfleet comm-badges?"

"We're not assigned to one, exactly," I said. "Our parents are though – well, our mothers – we live with them, on the _Enterprise."_

_"Enterprise_? Really? Then we are not mere acquaintances, but future friends."

"Oh?" T'vek seemed a bit wary of our 'future friend.'"

"Oh, yes," Ed enthused. "Bogart and I are on sabbatical from my university, and I volunteered to teach literature and journalism on your ship for the next semester. We're due to board on Saturday."

It was only Wednesday. "'We?'" I asked. "Is Bogart coming with you? Is that even allowed?"

"Yes," he said. "He is, and it is. At least, Jean-Luc approved it, but then, he and I are old friends."

"Jean-Luc?" I asked.

"I believe you may know him better as Captain Picard."

The light dawned. "You knew him before, then, right? Before he was the captain?"

"Before he was even an ensign," Ed said. "But I'm sure he wouldn't like me telling tales. Your friends await. I look forward to seeing you again in a few days."

"Me too," I said, and meant it. "Well, see you soon, I guess," I told him. Then I bent down one more time and gave Bogart a healthy scratch right above the base of his tail. "Here's lookin' at you, pup," I added, and then T'vek and I ran across the sand to retrieve our shoes and meet our friends.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44029.68**

**(Wednesday, 11 January 2367, 20:00 hours, ship's time)**

Data was waiting for our shuttle when we docked. When we exited the craft, laughing and joking, he greeted all of us, then very quietly pulled me aside. "Please do not be alarmed," he began. "There has been a complication with your mother."

T'vek overheard, and left our friends to stay with me, and I felt his hand grasp mine in a subtle, but supportive gesture.

"Complication?" I asked. "But… she was better. She said she was tired this morning, but everyone's been saying she's improving."

"It would be better if the doctor explained," he said. "Please accompany me to sickbay."

"Can T'vek come?"

Data looked from me to Tev and back. "If his parents have no objection, then of course he may join us."

"They won't mind," he said.

The three of us made the trek from the shuttle bay to sickbay in silence, except at one point when T'vek told me I was squeezing his hand too tightly. I flashed him an apologetic look, and let go, but then he took my hand back, holding firmly. I got the message.

Doctor Crusher was waiting when we arrived. "Thanks for escorting them, Data. You can go, if you like."

Data glanced from me to T'vek to the doctor, and then addressed me. "You will contact me when you have returned home." He didn't frame it as a request.

"Yes," I said. "I will. Thank you." I waited a beat, then turned back to the doctor. "So, what's happened with Mom?"

She explained in soft but matter-of-fact tones that with burn patients the two major complications were grafts being rejected, or opportunistic infections, because of the need to suppress the immune system. "In your mother's case, she's got a systemic infection – "

"But she was in a _bio-bed_ ," I protested. "They're supposed to keep that from happening, aren't they?"

"Yes," she said, "they are, but sometimes even the best technology isn't quite enough. It's a bacterial infection. We need to transfer your mother to a continuous care unit for a day or two in order to stop it – "

I cut her off again. "'Continuous care unit?' You mean stasis. You want to put my mother in a stasis chamber."

"Zoe, it's the best way to ensure that she's fully healed. It will only be 24-48 hours. You can still talk to her – she'll hear you."

"Did she know? When she told me she was tired this morning, and to go away and play with my friends… did she know?"

Doctor Crusher looked away from me, avoiding my eyes. "Yes," she said, "she did. She didn't want you to worry – we thought an anti-bacterial would be enough."

"But it wasn't." I wasn't asking.

"No."

"Can I see her, before you put her in?"

"She'd like that, I'm sure. But Zoe, I need to ask…is there an adult – a family member other than your father – who can be contacted in case medical decisions are necessary?"

"Doctor Crusher, are you telling us that Zoe's mother is going to die?" There was an edge to T'vek's tone that I'd never heard before.

"No," she said. "I just want to make sure that if anything should go wrong, Zoe has a support system in place."

She was hedging, and we all knew it.

"I have to think about it," I said, feeling small, and young, and a bit at sea. "My grandparents live on Earth, but we don't see them very often. Her younger sister, Elaine belongs to an anti-technology fringe group – I think they're on some colony world in the back of beyond. We don't have any contact with her."

"That's… understandable," the doctor said, diplomatically. "Why don't you go see your mother, and then get something to eat. Wes and I are having a late dinner in Ten-Forward. Do you want to join us?"

I couldn't begin to count all the ways I did _not_ want to have dinner with the Crusher family. "I'm not sure I'd be very good company," I said.

Her expression softened, and for a moment she was my friend's mother again, and not the CMO. "It's extremely unlikely that anything will go wrong."

I bit back the retort, _anything else, you mean_ , and just nodded and smiled wanly. "I'd like to see her now."

She led me to another room within the maze of corridors that formed sickbay – people always thought it was just the main clinic, but it took up a good chunk of the deck. When we got to my mother's room, the stasis tube had already been set up around her bed, the clamshell lid standing open. Waiting.

"Hey, Mom," I said softly. "There _are_ better ways to get attention, you know." When in doubt, try humor.

"Kiddo," she said weakly. "Come closer." I did and she drew in a deep, if shaky, breath. "You smell like salt air."

I grinned. "Nature's best perfume. You need to get well, Mom, so we can rent a beach house for my birthday weekend."

"Instead of a party?"

"Instead, in addition to… whatever works" I was kidding, and we both knew it, but it didn't matter.

"Okay," she said. "Working on it."

She was so pale – earlier she'd looked so much better – I wondered how much she'd been acting. Her eyelids, I noticed, seemed really heavy, as if she couldn't hold them open. I made a show of yawning. "I'm so sorry, Mom. It was a long day, and I'm really tired."

She smiled weakly. "Get some sleep, Zoe. See you soon."

"Sure thing," I said. "Love you, Mom."

"I love you, too."

I left the room before they closed the lid, fleeing sickbay as if a monster was chasing me. Maybe one was. T'vek caught up with me outside the banks of turbo-lifts. "Zoe, hey…wait."

"I'm sorry," I said. I would _not_ cry. "I'm just…"

He pulled me into a rough embrace. "Hey," he said. "I know… Let me help?"

"How?" I asked. "How can you possibly help?"

The 'lift doors opened and we stepped inside. T'vek gave the order to take us to the deck where my mom's quarters were. "I'm not sure," he said. "Let me try?"

I let him hold me for the few minutes it took for the turbo-lift to deposit us on my deck, let him keep my hand in his as we walked down the corridor, and when we got into the dimly-lit living room, I welcomed his kiss, and something in me started to turn around. "Make love to me?"

"Are you sure, Zoe?" He seemed more cautious than actually reluctant.

"You said you wanted to help. This is how you can. Make love to me. Give me something to focus on. You. Give me you."

His dark eyes stared into my own, and after a long moment, he nodded. "C'mere."

We were already holding each other close. He walked backward, leading me to my bedroom, to my bed. We kissed again, and then he stepped back to pull his shirt over his head. When I touched his bare chest, he felt fire-hot. Or maybe I was cold.

He began working the buttons of the blouse I was wearing, sliding it from my shoulders. "Son of a sehlat, Zoe," he breathed, "you're like ice."

So I _was_ cold, then. "Make me warm."

He pulled back the covers on my bed, and we slid into it, after toeing off our shoes, leaving our jeans on the floor. "Are you really sure?" he asked as he pulled the blankets around us both. "We could just rest. You were yawning, earlier."

I heard a low, throaty chuckle, and realized it had come from me. "Faking," I said. "So Mom could sleep sooner." I took a breath. "I'm sure," I said. "I want you. I'm sure."

The first time we'd made love, it had been in wet sand, and it had been less than awesome. The subsequent times had been overshadowed by my father's wedding, and then all the news stories about the Borg. Idly, I wondered if we'd ever come together without something else pushing us to it, but when he pushed himself into me, when he began moving inside me, when his heat finally managed to overtake the chill I'd been feeling, I stopped wondering about anything.

At the end, I felt a sort of tickle in my head, as if I'd opened my eyes after having them closed for a while, and for a split second, it was almost as if I was watching myself from someone else's point of view. Everything was warm and soft and safe and then it was suddenly gone, as if someone had turned off a view screen. "Tev?"

"Oh, Zoe…" he began, and then, "Shit! I didn't mean to…" He rolled away from me, or tried to, but there was a bulkhead in his way.

"What?" I said. "What was it? That feeling… it was like I was watching myself."

"No," he said softly. "You weren't watching you. I was."

"Tev?" I was confused. "You're making the kind of sense that isn't."

"I think I might have accidently melded with you, a little. I'm not very good at it, and I'm still learning, and oh, god, I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? It felt nice. I mean, a little warning would have been nice, but…" But his face had gone pale – well, pale-for-him. "You're acting like you committed a crime. Why are you so freaked out?"

"Because I'm not supposed to be able to do that. I'm a hybrid." He was so calm about it, as if these things happened every day. "I think we need to talk to my parents," he said. "Together."

"Now?"

"No. Not 'til your mother is better. You need to focus on that." He kissed me, a soft, sweet kiss. "I'm going to go," he said. "I don't want to leave you alone, but, I kind of… I'm not walking out on you… okay?"

"Okay," I said. "I'm actually really tired, after all."

"I'm contacting Data…"

I nodded. "Okay."

He kissed me again, and then left the bed. I heard him pull his clothes on. I heard him contact Data. As I was drifting into something like sleep, I heard him tell our teacher – my friend – that he didn't think I should wake up to being alone. Data answered him, but I couldn't discern the words, because the remainder of my attention was on trying to reclaim that feeling of warmth and light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T'vek isn't supposed to be able to mind-meld, but obviously things happen when you put two emotional teenagers together. It's possible he's been not entirely honest about how much telepathy he really has, as well, but not because he's malicious.


	30. In Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe and T'vek deal with the aftermath of their meld, and Zoe starts seeing Counselor Troi.

**Stardate 44030.47**

**(Thursday, 12 January 2367, 03:00 hours, ship's time)**

_"Meld with me, Zoe," T'vek's voice echoed in my head and in my room. "You know you want to. My mind to your mind touching…sharing thoughts just like we share love."_

_"You said you couldn't…"_

_His laugh was dark, wrapping itself around me in thick coils. "Maybe I lied. Maybe I just wanted to land the new girl before anyone else could."_

_He was lounging on the foot of my bed, leaning against the bulkhead. Shirt off. Casual slouch. It should have been hot, but somehow it was threatening instead. "Get out of my head," I tell him, but his dark eyes lock onto mine. "Tev, this isn't funny."_

_"No," he agreed, and his tone was deadly serious – accent on the 'deadly' – "it isn't funny. Most Vulcans wait, you know. Their first time is when they seal the bond with their betrothed."_

_"You're not fully Vulcan," I pointed out._

_"Nope. But I'm not fully Betazoid either, and yet, when we touch, I feel how much you want me." He rolled onto his hands and knees, started crawling up the bed toward me. "Let me touch you, Zoe…"_

_I began to back away, until my head cracked against the headboard. Weird, there shouldn't have been a headboard on my bed on the_ Enterprise _. I turned to look behind me, and suddenly we were in my room on Centaurus, and the vid screen was showing images of my mother screaming inside a stasis chamber._

_"Mom!" I screamed it out._

_"Your mother isn't here, now," T'vek said. "C'mon, Zoe, let me touch you, let me share your thoughts." His hands reached for the sides of my face, but it wasn't his fingers that I felt. Instead, it was needle-like probes. "Don't fight, Zoe…let me in…"_

_I started to struggle, pulling at his hands, and kicking out, but I was barefoot, and nothing connected, and behind him I could still see my mother's terrified face._

_"Let me in, baby," he kept repeating. "Let me in, let me in… let me…"_

"…in. Zoe, it is Data. May I come in?"

My tutor-cum-nighttime guardian's voice penetrated my dream, or started to, but I was still struggling against nightmare-T'vek. My bedroom door opened and Data came in, but I wasn't entirely awake, and my fist almost connected with his jaw.

He caught my hands – my wrists really - before that could happen, and his soothing tones finally brought me back to myself, but I was hyperventilating. "Data?"

"You seemed to be having a rather violent dream," he said, still holding my arms so I couldn't flail. His touch was gentle, but firm to the point that I knew he could do damage if he wanted to. That probably should have scared me. Perversely, I found it comforting.

"Yeah," I said not looking at him. "It was kind of intense."

"If I release my grip, will you be able to remain calm."

I blushed, but didn't meet his eyes yet. "Yeah. I think so. I um… it wasn't actually you I was trying to punch."

He let go of my wrists, and I immediately pushed myself into a less horizontal position, while he said, "I assumed as much. Had you actually hit me, you would have been injured."

"You're that strong?"

"My skull is constructed from duranium," he answered, "as is much of my internal framework – what is analogous to your skeleton."

"Ouch," I said.

"Indeed." He glanced around my room, and I realized he'd never actually been inside it before. He took in the photos stuck on the edges of the mirror, the clothes tossed over the chair, but instead of commenting on it all, he merely asked, "Would you like to talk about your nightmare?"

"This one was kind of… personal. I don't think I can talk about it. Not with you, anyway. I mean, I'm sure it was _because_ I was worried about my mother." I sighed. "And we've reached the part, haven't we, where you remind me that there's a whole staff of counselors I can talk to?"

He nodded. "Indeed" he repeated, though he continued, "Although it is also 'the part' where I must raise the question of whether you have been giving me something called 'lip service' when I have suggested that you speak with a counselor before."

Again, I looked away from him, feeling a little guilty. "I didn't mean to," I said, after a beat. "Do you think we could have some tea and talk for a bit, even if it's not my nightmare we talk about?"

"Will it help you to go back to sleep without further interruption?"

"Yeah," I said. "It actually will."

"Then it is an acceptable plan. What variety of tea would you prefer?"

"Chamomile," I said. "To keep me dozy."

"I will replicate it."

"Thanks, Data," I said. "I'll be out in a minute or two."

He left my room, and the door slid closed behind him. I got out of bed, and pulled a pair of sweatpants on under the t-shirt I'd been sleeping in, and used the bathroom before joining him in the main room, where tea was already waiting on the table near the couch. I noticed that the other table in the room – the dining table – was strewn with padds.

"What are you working on?" I asked, even as I curled into my usual corner of the couch.

"I am assisting Doctor Crusher and her medical staff in attempting to determine the source of your mother's bacterial infection."

"I was wondering how she caught one in a bio bed. I mean, that's not normal, is it?"

"It is not."

"Am I allowed to know what you've determined?"

"So far, my search has been inconclusive, except to note that the bacteria in question is both rare, and not typically found among human patients."

"But Mom _will_ be okay, right?" Something in my voice must have made it clear, even to him, that I wanted a less-than-technical response.

"There is every reason to believe so," he said. "Doctor Crusher would have told you if that were not the case."

"Somehow, hearing it from you makes it more… I don't know. I guess I just know that you won't lie just to make me feel better."

"No," he agreed. "I will not."

"As much as I want Mom safe and well, and back in her normal routine, I'm going to miss our middle-of-the-night tea parties when normalcy returns."

His response was given in a gentler tone than I expected, and something about his face seemed softer. "I, too, have enjoyed our late-night conversations, Zoe, but I will also appreciate the return to my former routine."

"Being here every night's kind of ruined your social life as well as your workflow, hasn't it?"

"Do not concern yourself with that."

"Too late," I said, managing a smile. "You said we were friends, so now you're stuck with me, and that means if _you_ get to care if I'm having bad dreams or worried about something, _I_ get to care if I'm totally cramping your style."

"That would seem to be an equitable arrangement," he agreed.

I opened my mouth to ask another question, but a yawn came out instead. "I think I should go back to bed, now," I said. "Will you still be here when I wake up, or do you have a shift in the morning?"

"I am not scheduled for duty tomorrow," he answered. "Why?"

I shrugged. "Eating breakfast alone is kind of depressing. Also, I may need an escort to a counselor's office. To ensure I actually go."

His head-tilt wasn't one of confusion, but seemed to relay a combination of affectionate admonishment and faint amusement. "Then I will see you at breakfast," he said. "Pleasant dreams, Zoe."

"Do you dream?" I blurted, prompted by the words he'd used. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that, but… do you?"

"I believe we agreed you could ask me anything," Data reminded me gently. "As far as I know, I am not capable of dreaming. It is my understanding that to dream requires a subconscious mind, and everything in my mind is… decidedly conscious."

"But it's not," I said. "We talked about it after… after that incident that shall not be named, when we thought you were dead."

"Perhaps you are correct. In any case, dreaming typically requires that one be asleep, and while I have tried sleeping from time to time, I have never perceived any benefit from it."

"Oh. Yeah. That makes sense."

"I am sorry if my answer has disappointed you, Zoe."

I shook my head. "I'm pretty sure there's nothing you could say or do that would ever disappoint me. Thanks for answering; you didn't have to."

"I did not mind."

"Still…" but I didn't finish my sentence. I felt the urge to hug him, but let it go. "Never mind. I should just go to bed. G'night, Data."

I heard his response as my bedroom door slid shut, "Goodnight, Zoe."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44031.39**

**(Thursday, 12 January 2367, 11:00 hours, ship's time)**

Counselor Troi sat in a low chair across from the one just like it that I was sitting in. Her legs were crossed elegantly at the knee, while I was sitting cross-legged in the bowl of the chair. I'm pretty sure she was taking as much note of my posture as I was of hers.

"I'm glad you've come to talk with me this morning, Zoe," she said, her tone open and warm. "Selfishly, I've wanted a chance to get to know you a bit better. I enjoyed our dinner the other week."

"Me, too," I confessed. "The dinner, I mean. No offense, but I'm not all that into having another counselor poke and prod at my psyche."

"I'm not offended," she said, then asked, "you've been in counseling before?"

"Yeah… it was a last ditch effort to save me from my wild ways before Mom dragged me here." Surprise flitted across her face, but only for a second. "You didn't know?"

She shook her head. "It's not in your file. Do you want to talk about it?"

"I have a file?" But I shrugged, waving my own question aside. "Never mind. Anyway, there's not a lot to talk about. I mean, I was pissed at my mother for being on a ship all the time, and pissed at my father for suddenly deciding I should stay home and be a normal kid instead of touring with him, and then I caught him in bed with the au pair, and I acted out. Nothing terribly interesting. Parties. Drinking. Almost had sex, but the drinking turned into puking before much happened."

"How old were you?"

"Thirteen when I started… fifteen when Dad and Gran figured it all out. It was just over a year ago."

"And you've been with us on the Enterprise since the school year began last fall?"

"A little before then."

"You've had quite the semester."

"It's never been boring, that's for sure."

"Would you like to tell me why you're talking with me today?" she invited, setting aside her padd.

"Is that auto recording us, or are you really not taking notes?"

"I'm not sure notes are required yet. I know Data's been concerned that you've been having increasingly violent nightmares."

"He's why I'm here," I confessed. "I figure, if my dreams are frequent enough to worry _him_..." I sighed and told the whole truth. "The last one, last night – this morning, really – I couldn't talk to him about it."

"Was it about him?"

"What? No! It was...you know T'vek Mairaj, right?"

She nodded. "His proper name is Stevek, isn't it?"

I smiled. "Yeah, but he prefers T'vek. Anyway, Tev and I clicked right from the first day I went to Data's tutorial, and we'd been sort of dating – as much as you can when you're on a starship and have no place to actually go – since right before the class trip to Serenity…"

She smiled softly. "I'd heard that. And seen the two of you together. T'vek cares for you deeply."

"It's mutual."

"I see that. What does this have to do with T'vek, Zoe?"

"We've been sleeping together since the night we got to Centaurus for the holidays." I said, mashing all the words together and speaking as fast as I could. "You know he's half-Vulcan, half-Betazoid, right?" I waited for her confirming nod. "Last night he accidentally melded with me."

"He's a hybrid; that shouldn't be possible."

"That's what he said. Anyway, the nightmare this morning, it wasn't just Borg-Mom trying to assimilate me, or Borg-Seth trying to kiss me – "

"Seth is?"

"Lieutenant Starker. Cello teacher."

"I thought you were studying music with Data?"

"Data created a music theory tutorial for me when I couldn't access the one on the holodeck menu. Apparently it's a college class, or something. Seth was my music teacher when I got here. I'm also taking voice lessons from Lt. Caldwell. I'd give anything to stop studying with Seth, but no one else aboard has his experience."

"We'll revisit that in a bit…" she said.

"Bet you wish you'd been taking notes now," I teased.

She laughed, "Maybe a little. In any case, the dream this morning –?"

"Oh, it was about Tev trying to… trying to meld with me, only when he touched my face it felt like needles, or probes, or something and… and it wasn't _my_ Tev. It was this dark, sinister version of him. I woke up screaming and fighting, and then it resolved into Data standing outside my door asking if it was okay to come in."

She nodded. "When T'vek started to meld with you, did it hurt?"

I shook my head. "No. I mean… it was _weird_. Knocking boots is one thing, but knocking brains? It wasn't something I expected. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm psi-null."

She stared at me for a long moment. "You should consider being formally tested," she said after a beat. "If the two of you were intimate when it happened, it might have been just a hormonal flux that allowed it, but, creative people – musicians, actors, and the like – often find they have low levels of latent telepathy."

I tried to make sense of what she was saying. "So, because I've got a vivid imagination and I'm musical and stuff, it basically means I'm more open than, say, someone who's totally science-y?"

"Essentially," she agreed. "How did you feel when T'vek pulled away?"

"Cold," I said. "As if someone had ripped a blanket off me on a really chilly morning."

"Many people find mind melds to be traumatic. That you didn't tells me you and T'vek are very comfortable with each other."

"I love him." I said. "He gets me. Almost the same way Data seems to."

"'Seems to?'" she repeated.

"I'm never sure if he really does, or if he's just pretending so I won't feel frustrated."

She laughed at that. "Data's not that good at dissembling," she said. "It's good you have a friend in him."

"You don't think it's inappropriate?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't. Data is unique, and his friendships are also so. If the two of you have a sort of resonance with each other, I'd trust it."

"It's because of him, isn't it?" I asked. "If I wasn't his… friend… I'd be having this conversation with one of your underlings, wouldn't I?"

"It is," she said, "in part. He's my friend and colleague, and he is as concerned for you as I believe he is capable of being." She hesitated, then added, "But that's only part of the reason, I wanted to talk with you myself."

"What's the other part?"

"I wanted to be certain you were handling everything with your mother as well as you appear to be."

"Am I?"

"You tell me."

"I feel kind of guilty," I said, "for being off the ship yesterday, having fun, doing normal kid stuff, even though she told me to go. And… I don't know… I feel like I'm imposing on Data way too much – he's got piles of padds all over our dining table, so he can work and babysit me at the same time."

"That's actually fairly typical," she said. "I'd be more surprised if there wasn't a feeling of guilt about your mother."

"Yeah," I said. "I guess that makes sense."

"And about Data…?"

"I need to learn to sleep without him guarding me?"

"No," she said. "I know him well enough, and I suspect you do, too, to know that he wouldn't be doing what he is if he didn't feel it was important."

I laughed, "Hey, for all I know he's really using me as a lab rat while he studies human nightmares."

She grinned at that. "In truth…"

"It's probably a little of both?"

"Yes, exactly."

That time, we laughed together. Then she got up. "Our hour is over," she said, "and I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Do you want to join me in Ten-Forward, or have you had enough adult company for the day?"

I unfolded myself from my chair. "Actually," I said. "I'd really enjoy that."

"Good," she said. "Two more things… do your parents know you're sexually active?"

"That's one," I said. "Mine don't. My uncle Zane does, and basically made me swear to call him if Tev did anything I didn't like. Tev's parents know. And before you ask, I'm not keeping it from them, exactly, I just… it hasn't been the right time. We're using protection, though. You can ask Doctor Crusher."

"I believe you," she said.

"What's the other thing?"

"I think it might be helpful if you came to see me again in a couple of days, and after that, once a week, at least for a while."

"Am I crazy?" I asked brightly.

"No more or less so than any of us," she answered.

"Okay," I said. "I'll come."

"I'm glad. Now…lunch."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44037.72**

**(Saturday, 14 January 2367, 18:30 hours, ship's time)**

Talking with Counselor Troi must have helped, because the night of my first session with her, even though I did stay up late to have tea with Data, once I went to bed, my dreams were trouble-free, and the night after, it was more of the same.

Saturday morning, exactly a week before my birthday I woke to the news that Data had traced the source of the bacterial infection that had attacked not only my mother, but a few other critical patients. It was an experiment from one of the bio labs. Containment had failed during the battle with the Borg, and no one had noticed until it affected actual people. My mother was due to return to quarters on the 15th, and resume light duty on Monday.

For the second Saturday since I'd been back on the _Enterprise_ I didn't have a Saturday session with Data, and I was anxious to get back to routine, back to music, back to…normal life. Especially since my friends kept making excuses not to see me…I mean, we met for meals and such, but they all seemed to be keeping a marvelous secret that they weren't sharing.

Except T'vek. We hadn't gone further than a couple of intense make-out sessions since the meld incident, but that night I was his family's guest for dinner, and I was pretty certain the subject would come up.

"Welcome Zoe," his mother greeted me when I arrived, still not sure I was dressed appropriately. T'vek had assured me that it was a casual family dinner, but I'd found a black shirt and plaid skirt that were dressy enough to be special without being formal. "You honor us with your presence." T'rella didn't smile, of course, but she managed to infuse her voice with motherly warmth, even so.

"Thank you for having me," I said. "I'm sorry my mother still isn't well enough to join us."

"Stevek says she'll be home tomorrow?"

"Yes, and back to work on Monday, to a point."

"That is gratifying to hear. We have been concerned for her, as well as for you."

I smiled at that. "Tev's been really supportive," I said. "And Counselor Troi and Commander Data have been watching over me." More the latter than the former, but, whatever.

She was out of uniform, wearing a long dress that obscured her feet, and she glided all the way into the main living area of their quarters, while I followed behind, feeling much more bound by gravity. "Your home is lovely," I said, admiring the soft lines of the various sculptures and paintings that decorated the room, not for the first time.

"Thank you."

Kenash and T'vek were already in the living area – it was only meter or two away – but they rose when I entered. Kenash pulled me into a rough embrace and whispered, "Welcome, kiddo," in my ear, and then T'vek came over to stand with me. He brushed a chaste kiss across my cheek, then greeted me with the two-fingered touch that Vulcans used for their closest loved ones. It was the latter that made me blush, and I was grateful for the dim lighting.

"We have much to discuss," T'rella said, "but we will save the serious subjects until after dinner. Please, sit."

Food was shared on the low table in the center of the room, and we all sat on the floor on cushions. Both Betazoid and Vulcan custom dictated that the meal be meatless, but it certainly wasn't bland. Some of the dishes were similar to Mediterranean food from Earth, while others were completely foreign to me, but I tried everything, except for the one dish that reeked of pippali.

"Are you sensitive to spicy foods, Zoe?" T'rella asked, as if embarrassed that her choices hadn't all been pleasing.

"Only some, and only a little," I said. "But please don't feel bad. If it's something you all enjoy, it's all good."

She nodded and the meal continued, until we were done. T'vek cleared the plates – he wouldn't let me help – and Kenash made a tea that was sort of minty but not quite, and then he and T'rella sat back on the sofa, and the mood shifted.

"Stevek has shared with us that the nature of your friendship has changed," T'rella began. "I am told your mother is not yet aware?"

"There hasn't really been time," I said. "She knew we were… she knew it was going to happen eventually."

"As did we," Kenash said, a hint of humor in his tone. "And while I'm sure we all wish you would have waited, Stev's assured us that you both used protection."

"Forgive me if this is rude," I said, trying not to fall into my default snarky mode. "Are you about to tell us that we can't see each other anymore?"

Kenash laughed out loud at that, earning an arched eyebrow from his wife and a puzzled look from T'vek. "Not at all, Zoe. Not at all. We just wanted to assure ourselves that you were… well."

I burst out laughing. "I'm sorry," I said. "When T'rella said serious conversation, I envisioned some weird ultimatum of breaking up or having a shotgun wedding happening."

Even T'rella could see the humor in the situation. Her own demeanor relaxed a lot, and a hint of a smile showed on her face. "Do you think we are so unaware of how teenagers behave?" she asked. "We do, however, want to address a different point. Stevek told us that he touched your mind several nights ago."

"I'm pretty sure he didn't mean to," I said. "But it wasn't bad. Actually, it was worse when it ended than when it began. Like being pulled out of a really cozy bed before you're ready to be awake." I was paraphrasing the description I'd used with the counselor.

"As my son has no doubt explained, his telepathic abilities, instead of being a blend of both Vulcan and Betazoid talents, are largely non-existent."

I nodded. "He said it was like they cancelled each other out."

"A simplistic if appropriate analogy," she agreed. "The fact that he could meld at all, is surprising, and speaks highly of you."

"Thank you?" I said. "I guess? I mean… I wasn't doing… I was just there." I hesitated, then added. "Counselor Troi said that musicians and actors and artists and other creative types often have latent telepathic abilities. Not enough to do anything with, just enough to… receive, I guess?"

"I have heard that as well. Have you been formally tested?"

"No, but it seems like I might have to be."

"It would be advisable."

T'vek broke into the conversation, finally. "Mother, please. It's Zoe's first time having a formal dinner with us, and all we've done is make her uncomfortable." He reached for my hand, then, squeezing it, and letting it drop.

"You're right, my son. Zoe, Stevek says you enjoy word games. Are you up for a game of Scrabble?"

I did, and I was. T'rella took the first game, but we played a second, and I won that.

"Next time," Kenash declared, "we'll play in teams. Only then will Stev or I have a chance of winning."

"Only if the teams aren't divided by gender," Tev said, and we ended the evening on a positive note, with his parents ushering us both away with suggestions of taking the long way back to my quarters.

"That was better and worse than I thought it would be. I'm still not sure your mother likes me."

"She does, Zoe, I promise. I can't believe you said that about a shotgun wedding, though."

"I can't believe _you_ let me think it." We stopped outside my door. "Are you coming in?" I asked. "It's our last night of relative freedom."

"Isn't Data coming to stay with you?"

"Not until later," I said. "Rarely before midnight. It's almost like I have a second life as a vampire."

"I want to," T'vek said, leaning close to kiss me. "I really do. But I think I'd better not."

I put my hands on either side of his face, staring into his dark, dark eyes, and seeing only my own reflection. "Yeah," I said. "You're probably right." I kissed him, he kissed me… and then I went inside, and he went home.

Five minutes later, the door-chime sounded, and I opened it to find him there. "I'm kind of stupid sometimes," he said.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Sometimes you are. But mostly you're not." We went to my bedroom and closed the door, and when we were together, that time, there was no melding of anything but our bodies, but we both knew if it ever happened again, we wouldn't be afraid.

He was still there when Data comm'd me to tell me he was en route, a little after midnight, but we found the positive in the situation: if Data hadn't called, T'vek would have missed his curfew.

When he left me the second time that evening, he grinned the insouciant grin that was his trademark and said, "I love you, Zoe."

I smiled back at him. "I love you, too. I'll comm you tomorrow."

The irony is, I probably wouldn't have had nightmares that night, even if Data hadn't been in my living room. Not that I objected to his presence. I was starting to find comfort in the soft sounds of padds being picked up and put down, and the knowledge that someone I trusted was guarding my sleep.


	31. Happy Birthday, Sweet Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Zoe's sixteenth birthday. There's a party and presents, of course, but there's also some serious news from T'vek.

**Stardate 44050.51**

**(Thursday, 19 January 2367, 10:30 hours, ship's time)**

"Mom, I have to go meet Counselor Troi," I shouted in the general direction of my mother's bedroom in our quarters. Almost a week had gone by since she'd been released from sickbay, but she was still restricted to light duty. Pretty much, that meant she was only working afternoon shifts, which meant we had a lot more mother-daughter bonding time than we ever had before.

"Let me know when you're done," she called back. "I love you."

"Love you, too, Mom," I answered. Then I grabbed my padd and left our quarters, nearly walking into T'vek, who was waiting outside the door. "Hey you," I greeted, then stretched up for a kiss.

He tangled his hand in my hair, and we continued kissing for a long moment, before he pulled away. "So," he said. "I thought I'd walk you down to the counselor's office." He took my hand, lacing his fingers with mine.

"And have an impromptu make-out session," I teased, handing him my padd. "The least you could do is carry my books."

"I can do that," he agreed. "Also, I thought, if you don't mind me waiting, we could go have lunch in Ten-Forward, after."

"Sure. I mean, I have to let Mom know."

"Obviously."

We stepped into the turbo-lift, which was empty, which meant more time for - to use the term in the series of novels I was still reading – snogging. When the 'lift stopped a few decks away from the medical section, we broke apart.

"Oh! It's my beach buddies!" Edouard Benoit – the man with the dog named Bogart – said by of a greeting as he joined us in the 'lift. "Let me see if I remember… you're T'vek and Zoe, right?"

Tev and I shared a look, and then I confirmed, "Right in one. How's Bogart adjusting to the ship?"

"Better than I am, I'm afraid. Apparently, I was not destined for space travel."

"Um, you know we haven't actually left Spacedock, right?" I asked. T'vek, meanwhile, was apparently trying not to smirk.

"I am aware. No worries though, Zoe, I'm sure I'll adjust sooner or later. Hopefully sooner. Actually, I'm headed to sickbay to chat with the doctor about just that."

Tev had controlled his amusement, and now offered, "Sometimes if you have an ear infection, even being in Spacedock can mess up your head. It happened to me, when I first came aboard."

"It did?" I asked. "How come I never knew that?"

"Because I was here way before you were," he said.

"Oh, right. There is that."

"Are you two also headed to sickbay?" Ed asked us.

"Us? No, thank you. I've had enough of that place for a lifetime and the year's not even a month old."

"Oh?" for a moment he seemed more of a reporter than the journalism teacher he'd claimed to be. "Why's that. Were you injured in the battle at Wolf 359?"

I shook my head. "No, we were both at my father's place on Centaurus for the holidays, but my mother was injured, and it was pretty dire for a while. She wasn't Borgified, or anything," I added, realizing what his likely assumption would be. "Just plasma burns and a bad bacterial infection."

"'Just' plasma burns?'" he laughed, surprised. "Are you all so jaded that you react that way?"

"Hardly," T'vek said, wrapping his arm around me protectively. "But it's a matter of degrees."

"Tev's mother was also injured," I explained. "But not as severely. Actually, I'm on my way to meet with Counselor Troi." Ed had just become the first person outside of Mom, T'vek, and Data who I'd told about my counseling sessions, and I was trying to hide my embarrassment, so I widened my eyes and quoted a line from a favorite holo-vid. "Haven't you heard?" I asked, "We're all mad here."

To his credit, the man laughed, and responded, "Oh, I've no doubt you're completely bonkers. All the best people are." He was paraphrasing, of course, but it made me grin. "More seriously," he said, "I'm a big believer in having a personal therapist. Everyone needs someone to talk to."

I grinned at that, "Yes, exactly. And Counselor Troi never makes you feel like you're in therapy. She makes you feel like you're talking to a friend."

The 'lift stopped at our deck, and Tev and I stepped out of it, wishing Ed well on the rest of his day.

**(=A=)**

My conversation with the counselor went well, and a bit over an hour later, T'vek and I were in the lounge, sharing a table with Wes, Annette, Dana, and Josh. After we ordered, I looked at my friends and demanded, "Okay, guys. You've all been avoiding me since we got back from the beach. Did I do something to offend you? Are you trying to make me feel completely paranoid?"

"It's not paranoia if people really are out to get you," Josh pointed out, helpfully.

Dana slugged him good-naturedly. "Stop it, you," she said.

"Make me," he suggested, waggling his eyebrows at her, and leaning over to kiss her.

She pushed him away, blushing, and protesting, "Josh, no. Not in public. Someone might see."

"Sorry, sorry," he said. "Zoe and T'vek canoodle all the time."

"Zoe and T'vek don't have a father in Security," she shot back.

"Zoe and T'vek are sitting right here," I pointed out, referring to myself and Tev in third person just to be snarky. "But, um, we could leave…?"

Dana pushed Josh's hands away, and resettled herself in her chair. "No," she said. "Actually, we need to talk to you."

"Oh?"

"We'd been trying to plan a party for your birthday," she confessed. "But we ran into a snag."

"You couldn't ask my mom for input because she was sick?" I guessed.

"Make that two snags," Annette said warmly, joining the conversation. "Wes, tell her the rest."

"Dana and Annette wanted to give you the beach party you described at lunch."

"Oh!" I said, "That would be awesome!"

"Except…"

"Except what?" T'vek asked as the server placed a café mocha in front of me, and my focus turned toward caffeine.

"We're breaking orbit tomorrow."

I shrugged. "I told you I didn't really want a party," I said.

"Yeah," Dana agreed. "I know. But that was when you were worried about your mother."

"Well," I allowed, between sips of mocha. "There is that… but why not just use the holodeck?"

"We could," Wes said. "But there's another option. We're heading to Ogus II, which has one of the best arcades in the sector, including a huge laser tag arena, but we won't be there until a couple days _after_ your actual birthday."

I knew I should be upset, but I'd meant it about not particularly wanting a party. "Not that I don't love a good arcade," I said, "but I'd kind of like something a little more low-key, if we can't do a beach thing. Food. Cake. Music. Maybe dancing, because I'm _so_ good at it."

T'vek squeezed my hand under the table. "She's not kidding. Our Zoe has dance moves you would _not_ believe."

"Not that T'vek is exactly stellar," I added.

"I don't remember complaints from you. In fact, I remember some rather nice compliments."

"I don't remember complimenting your _dancing..."_

"No, just my moves."

I couldn't help it, I blushed, and my friends – our friends – exchanged knowing glances, before Dana said, "Would it be okay if I visit your Mom, and talk with her about your party?"

"You do realize you've lost the element of surprise?"

"Doesn't matter. You shouldn't have to plan your own birthday."

"She's free most mornings, at least until next week," I said. "I'm sure she'd welcome company from anyone who isn't me, at this point. Oh, hey, did you guys know we have a new teacher this semester?" And I deftly switched the subject to one Edouard Benoit, professor and dog-lover.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44055.87**

**(Saturday, January 21 2367, 09:30 hours, ship's time)**

"Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday, to you." I woke to the sound of my mother's warm alto, singing in my ear.

"What time is it?" I grumbled sleepily. I'd stayed up really late the night before, finishing the series about wizard children, which I'd loved until the very last chapter. Seriously, who believes that everyone should end up with their high school sweetheart?

"Nine-thirty," Mom answered. "Rise and shine, Zoificus. You are in great demand today!"

"It's a weekend. How can I possibly be in great demand on a weekend?"

My mother sat on the edge of my bed, and presented me with a mug of steaming coffee. "Drink this, daughter-of-mine, and then go shower. You have a scheduled comm-call with your father and grandmother at ten, and Commander Data has asked for your attendance in his quarters at eleven."

I sat up in the bed and took the proffered mug, sipping gingerly at first. Whoever decided that ground beans and boiled water should be a beverage should have been canonized. Or better. "This is fantastic," I said. "Thank you. Why does Data want to see me?"

"He didn't say," Mom answered. "I assumed you were resuming your music theory tutorial."

"My cello's broken," I said. "Oh, god, I forgot to tell you! My cello was shattered during… whatever. I found it when I got home. Everything was a mess, and he…" I paused to sip more coffee, waited a moment for the caffeine to penetrate my brain, and then continued, " _Data_ helped clean up. Mom, we owe him, big-time. He was… he was a really good friend to me while you were… you know."

She smiled, and leaned forward to play with my hair. "I agree. We do owe him, but from what I've heard he volunteered for the daunting task of keeping you sane."

"Well, sane-ish," I said. "T'vek and his parents were pretty awesome, too. But Data was… he was like this solid, reassuring presence."

"Paternal?" she asked.

"Actually, not." I said. "You'd think so… but… no. Just… I don't know, he's calm, and I guess the calm is sort of contagious sometimes. I can be quiet with him. I mean, I like to hear him speak. There's this… thing… in his voice when he says certain words, mostly words that begin with a hard 'c,' that's just… never mind." Mom was looking at me with a strange expression on her face, one I couldn't interpret. "But anyway, yeah, I can be quiet with him."

She laughed at that. "You are probably the first person to refer to Data as someone to be quiet with."

I shrugged. "I could totally out-babble him if I tried, but… it's nice to just sit and not-talk."

The look my mother gave me was affectionate, but also appraising. "You really aren't a child any more, are you, kiddo?"

"I'm afraid not," I said. "Mom, over the holidays, T'vek and I…"

She stopped me with a finger to my lips and a kiss to my forehead. "Table that thought for the moment," she said. "Let's keep today a day of happiness and light topics, shall we? It's enough to realize that my baby daughter has reached the advanced age of sixteen."

"Yeah, and there's been hardly any bloodshed," I quipped.

"Oh, Zoe…" But she didn't finish whatever she was thinking. "Drink up," she said. "There's a bagel with your name on it when you've showered and dressed." She teased my hair again, then left.

I drained my mug, and then went to get ready to face the world outside our quarters.

**(=A=)**

By 11:00 hours I'd had a lovely chat (while I ate a bagel and had more coffee) with Dad, Gia and Gran via comm-link, and been warned to be on Holodeck Three at 20:00 hours. I'd asked my mother if she knew what my friends were planning, and she avoided answering the question.

Outside Data's quarters, I felt suddenly nervous. We'd spent so much time hanging around in my living room that visiting his space felt distinctly odd. Nevertheless, I activated the door-chime and waited for him to invite me in.

"You beckoned?" I greeted as I walked into his space.

"Good morning, Zoe," he greeted me from behind his workstation, though he was rising as he said it. "I did not beckon, precisely. I did request your presence." He paused standing directly in front of me, and with a slight stiltedness said, "Happy birthday."

"Thank you," I said, still a little confused. "Why am I here? Are we starting theory again, even though regular classes haven't started yet? Because the hands-on portion of our sessions might be a bit difficult."

"That was not my intent," he said, "although I am amenable to resuming our Saturday morning routine when you are."

I grinned. "I'm actually kind of itchy to get back to normal, or whatever approximates it." I said. "Are you going to make me guess?"

"Would you care to sit down?" he invited gesturing to the couch. It was odd for Data to be so formal with me. I took the spot that was rapidly becoming 'mine,' and he reached across his console to fetch something from his desk, before joining me. Something like a hint of devilish amusement flickered in those gold eyes, but he only said, "I do not require that you 'guess' why you are here. I wished only to present you with this." He handed me a small box wrapped in purple paper and tied with gold ribbon that was somehow familiar. Once the connection was made, I started laughing, causing him to look perplexed, and ask, "Have I done something amusing?"

"Yes. No. Not exactly. When I told you to reuse this wrapping for my birthday, I was kidding. I mean you aren't obligated to give me… I mean…" I looked up into his warm yellow eyes, and remembered my manners. "I mean thank you. But… I'm pretty sure my mom and my friends have organized some kind of party."

"They have," he confirmed, "though I have been requested to keep the details a secret. However, I am on duty as watch officer during the night watch this evening, and am not certain I will be able to attend." He tilted is head slightly. "As well, I wished to watch you open it."

His echoing of my words to him when I'd given him the mask and invitation to our amusement park unveiling made me smile, whether or not they were intentional. "Does it tick?" I asked.

"No," he said. "Nor does it involve confetti."

"Confetti is evil," I grinned, as I untied the ribbon. "It gets into carpets and hair and… ohh… Data, this is beautiful." His gift to me was a bracelet. Nothing terribly fancy, just a circle of white, green and turquoise beads that felt cool to the touch and clicked together with a satisfying sound. "These are Yerbian prayer beads, aren't they?"

"You recognize them? I was uncertain if you knew what they meant."

I shook my head. "I know _what_ they are, but if there's any significance to the color choice you'll have to tell me."

"Were classes in session," he teased lightly, "I would instruct you to 'look it up.'"

"But it's my birthday, so you're going to just tell me, right, oh, omniscient one?"

He didn't rise to the bait and deny his omniscience. Instead he said, "Indeed. Both the white and the green are jade, and both are meant to inspire accomplishment and turn dreams to reality."

"Good dreams, only, though, right?"

"Indubitably."

"So what's the turquoise for?"

"Technically it is turquoise jasper, and it is said to promote tranquility and comfort as well as to keep away evil spirits."

My attention had been on the bracelet, but I refocused on his face at that moment. "A talisman to bring good dreams and keep away evil spirits? Data, you don't actually believe any of that do you?"

He managed to look chagrinned. "I do not," he admitted. "I chose them because I thought the meanings would appeal to your vivid imagination, and because the colors are reminiscent of water." He seemed to hesitate for a moment, "Do you like it?"

"I love it," I said. "Thank you." Then I held out my left wrist, the bracelet dangling from my fingers. "Help me put it on?"

His fingers were deft as they looped the string of beads around my wrist, and tightened the pull-cords to keep it fastened. If I felt the faintest hint of… something… when he touched me, I ignored it, chalking it up to birthday excitement.

"Thank you," I said again. And then I remembered, "Oh, hey, I know I've made a habit of imposing on you lately, but… when the ship gets to Ogus II, will shore leave be likely?"

"It is possible," he said. "Why?"

"Dad put funds into my credit account for a new cello, and mentioned that there's a really good luthier there who'll give me a fair price because I'm Maestro Harris's daughter." I uttered those last three words in a mock-pompous tone. "I was wondering if you could find time to go with me. First because Mom will never let me leave the ship on my own, and second because I'd love your opinion on whatever I choose."

"If Captain Picard allows shore leave, I will ensure that we visit your father's recommended luthier," he agreed.

"The awesomeness of you can _not_ be overestimated," I said, but then I got up, "I have to get back home. Promised Mom I'd have lunch with her today – just us."

Data rose as well, and escorted me to the door. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Zoe," he said.

Impulsively, I turned and hugged him, and was pleased to find that his return embrace, while brief, held little of the stiffness I was accustomed to from him. "You too," I said. "Bye." And I breezed out the door and into the corridor where I paused, once the doors had closed, to look at my new bracelet again before I headed back to quarters.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44057.25**

**(Saturday, 21 January 2367, 21:30 hours, ship's time)**

By nine-thirty that night, the party my friends and mother had conspired to throw was in full swing on one of the holodecks. Dana, Annette, Josh, and Wes had enlisted Lt. Barclay's help to create a beachfront bungalow, though it was really just a giant living room and a back porch with steps down to the sand. T'vek had been left out of the planning so he wouldn't be able to reveal what was going on.

My friends and their parents, as well as a few of the officers I'd spent time with while my mother was in recovery, had all accepted their invitations, including, I was surprised to see, Commander Riker, Counselor Troi. Also present were Edouard "call me Ed" Benoit and the ever faithful Bogart, as well as the Potts brothers, two of the younger kids aboard the _Enterprise._ Their parents were on sabbatical and had elected to leave them on the ship, and the counselor had asked if they could attend.

Dinner hadn't been part of the scheme for this event – we had plans for late-night pizza, after – but my friends had convinced Guinan to not only provide a cake, but also an array of snacks and finger foods from many cultures. "Something for everyone," she had told me, when I thanked her for her work and asked what inspired the menu, "but not too much of any one thing." I got the impression that her philosophy was meant for more than just party food.

As surprised as I was that people like Geordi and Ed and Commander Riker had come to celebrate some kid's sweet sixteen, I was equally surprised at the number of packages on the table with the cake, which, I'd been told, was chocolate and mocha and orange, and would be served at ten. Suddenly overwhelmed and uncomfortable, I left the main room, grabbed a glass of tamarind soda, and walked 'outside' to the porch, passing through the array of grouped chairs to sit on the steps.

"Zoe, do you mind if I join you?" Counselor Troi had come up behind me.

I scooted to one side of the step. "Sure," I said. "Am I broadcasting that much, or are you that bored?" I asked.

"A little of the former, none of the latter," she said, her voice warm as ever. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "Just feeling a little overwhelmed. Six months ago, I didn't even want to be here, and now everyone's being so nice, and I feel like at some point everyone's going to wake up and realize I'm not worth it."

She raised an eyebrow at me. "I'm not used to hearing that kind of talk from you," she said.

I shrugged. "Birthdays are weird. I guess I'm a little homesick, too. And I can't shake the sense that everything in my life is about to flip upside down."

That made her laugh. "That's the Zoe Harris I've come to know. Life is constantly changing, Zoe. Birthdays make us all more reflective. You _are_ worth it, by the way. Look around you: you've managed to create a group of friends who love you and want to celebrate that."

"I guess."

"Guess?"

"Okay, I _know_. I guess – no, I _know_ – that I'm also feeling like having a party at all is a little bit frivolous after… you know… everything."

"Actually, celebrations like this are even _more_ necessary after the sorts of things we've all been through. They're a reminder that life goes on and joy exists."

"You know, you're almost as annoying as Data and my mother when it comes to being right all the time."

"Almost?" she laughed.

"Well, Mom's got the whole parental thing going for her. And Data is…" again, I shrugged. "Data's Data."

"Yes," she said amusement and understanding coloring her tone and her expression. "He is. You know he wanted to be here."

"I know. We talked this morning. He invited me over to tell me, personally, that he had to stand watch on the bridge. He _also_ gave me my first official birthday present of the day… well, if you don't count the mug of coffee Mom brought into my room this morning."

"I'm sure you can guess that he polled all of us for ideas about what to get you."

It was my turn to laugh. "I can just imagine. Well, whoever suggested a bracelet wins a prize." I held up my left arm so she could see the beads encircling my wrist.

"Oh, Zoe, those are lovely."

"Yeah," I said, "they really are. Also?" and I rotated my wrist back and forth "They make this awesome clicky sound that's really just…"

"Satisfying?"

"Exactly."

The counselor gave my back a couple of gentle pats. "I think there's someone else here who wants to have a moment of your time," she said softly. To whomever was behind us, she turned and said, "She's all yours, Mr. Mairaj." She got up, and T'vek took her place.

"Thanks, Counselor," he said, sitting down. "Hey, Birthday Girl." He wrapped his arm around me, and leaned in for a kiss. "Having fun?"

"I am now," I teased lightly. "It's a great party."

"Yeah," he said. "Apparently you're everyone's favorite."

"I wish!" I said. "Actually, I'm pretty sure it's Wes that managed most of this. Well, Wes and Lt. Barclay. Remind me to thank him, later?"

"I'll do that," he said. "Listen, Zoe… I have a present for you, but I kind of want you to open it alone, after the party. Is that okay?"

"That depends. If it's you with a bow somewhere strategic…" I favored him with an exaggerated leer.

"That, too," he said, grinning. "Seriously, I just… it's kind of personal."

"Okay," I said. "We'll find time."

We were interrupted, then, by my mother's voice. "If everyone would please gather inside," she called, "It's time for cake and presents."

"And that's my cue," I said softly. "You coming?"

We stood up together, and he took my hand. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

**(=A=)**

The cake was amazing, and the presents were even more so. Lt. Barclay, acting on information from my friends, gifted me with a holodeck program for nighttime surfing, promising a full moon and no sharks. Commander Riker gave me a data solid full of jazz music featuring the cello, and Wes and Annette had dug up all the sequels to one of my favorite vintage horror movies and transferred them to a data solid as well.

Ed, who barely knew any of us, and had been invited mostly because T'vek ran into him again on the way somewhere, also gave me a data solid. "A little prying," he confessed, "told me that you're a voracious reader. I hope you're not anti-Hemingway?"

"I'd heard he was kind of a despicable person," I said.

"Oh, he was," Ed confirmed. "He was, however, a brilliant writer. Did things with three words that would take most writers entire paragraphs." He gave a self-deprecating half-shrug. "I took a chance."

I grinned. "I'm willing to give him a shot."

Counselor Troi and Dr. Crusher presented me with a basket full of soaps and perfumes, and Guinan gave me an exquisitely carved candle. Dana gave me a framed watercolor she'd done, and Josh had found an expansion to a board game we were all addicted to.

"I assume you're giving me this because you know I'm going to ask you all to come play?"

"Score one for enlightened self-interest," he said, causing the room to erupt with laughter.

Geordi's gift surprised me, mostly because I hadn't expected him to show up, let alone give me anything, but it was proof that he was a genuinely nice guy. He'd given me a digital message tag, and my mother made me read it to the group. "Flying lessons? Really? You're either incredibly cool or incredibly insane," I said.

"Well, it's just a holodeck program – real-world lessons are dependent on the ship being assigned somewhere we can actually rent a flitter," he hedged. "But I heard you didn't get to take the lessons for your license."

I left the chair I was sitting in, crossed the room, and hugged him, then returned to my seat. "I'm not sure I deserve any of this," I said, "but aside from having my favorite pop star show up for a private show, this has been the best birthday ever."

T'vek's parents presented me with a Vulcan lyre and a data solid with instruction videos, but stressed that it was acceptable to keep the instrument as a piece of art if I didn't wish to learn to play.

"I'll learn to play it," I promised, adding, "thank you both." And then, because I would have done so even without my mother's pointed looks, I added, "Thank you all. I feel really special tonight."

"You are special, kiddo," Mom said.

Shortly after that, the party began to break up. The leftover cake and the presents were beamed back to our quarters, and the adults left the rest of us alone on the holodeck, which had been booked until the beginning of the day shift. I'm pretty sure my mother knew T'vek and I would end up staying there alone for the last several hours of that time, but we'd agreed not to talk about it, so I put it out of my mind.

"I have to go," Wes said after a bit. We'd all been hanging out on the sofas at that point. "I've got bridge duty from midnight to zero-four-hundred."

"You'll bring Data the slice of cake I set aside?" I asked.

He grinned, "Yeah. And I'll let you know what he says."

I got up from the loveseat I was sharing with T'vek, and gave Wes a hug. "Tonight, everyone feels the love. Thanks for coming."

"Happy birthday, Zoe."

Annette came to hug me, and then left with him. "I'll walk you…" I heard her say as they left the room.

"Anyone up for night surfing?" Josh asked. "Cuz I don't know about Zoe, but I'm dying to try that program."

"I think it's going to have to wait for another day," I said apologetically.

"Translation," Dana said, merrily. "Zoe and Tev are kicking us out."

I hung my head in mock-shame. "We are," I said. "I'm sorry…but…"

She just laughed. "Naah, it's okay. You two have your time together. Come on, Josh. My father's on the late shift tonight, too…"

More hugs were exchanged, and then Tev and I were alone on the holodeck. Quietly, he called in an arch and locked the doors.

"So, your present," he said, catching my hand and leading me to one of the larger couches.

"What, it really is you with a bow?"

He smiled, but shook his head. "I went to see Data a few days ago, and he said your cello couldn't be fixed. I asked him for some of the pieces."

"You made something for me?"

"Yeah…" He reached under the table where the gifts had been, and pulled out a flat package which he handed to me. "Open."

I ripped the tissue apart, and found a box, which I opened. Inside was a framed holograph of T'vek and me at my father's wedding. "Oh, wow," I said. "Tev, this is gorgeous." I looked more closely at the wood of the frame. "This is the wood from my cello."

"Is that okay?"

"Okay? It's awesome."

"How awesome?" he asked, teasing me.

I grinned. "How 'bout I show you?"

Note to self: when having birthday tryst on the holodeck with your boyfriend, replicate blankets before you start.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44057.99**

**(Sunday, 22 January 2367, 04:00 hours, ship's time)**

Late in the night - or really, very early in the morning - I woke to T'vek gently stroking my cheek. "Hey," I said, my voice sounding too loud in the empty room.

"Hey," he said. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I have to tell you something." His tone was gentle, but the words were ominous.

"If you're breaking up with me the night after my birthday…" I warned, sitting up, and looking around for the bag I'd been told to bring. It was behind him. "Hand me my overnight bag, please? I'm cold."

Wordlessly he did so, waiting for me to shrug into the t-shirt and jeans that were stuffed into it. "I'm not breaking up with you," he said, "exactly. And it's not my choice."

My hands fisted into the party dress he'd helped me out of the night before, and only the agony on his face and in his voice kept me from strangling him with it. "Go on."

"My parents told me the night we almost melded," he confessed. "Mom's being transferred to a different ship. Part of trying to re-staff everything after Wolf 359."

"Do you know which ship?"

"The _Berlin._ We'll be transferring over when we get to Ogus II."

"That's less than a week from now," I said. I should have been angry or upset, but all I felt was numb. "You should have told me sooner."

"I wanted to," he said. "Zoe, I tried, but then there was everything with your Mom, and your birthday and…" He stopped. "I love you," he said. "I don't want us to end."

"Show me," I said. "Show me what you really feel."

His dark eyes fixated on mine, as if he was searching for something. "Again?"

"Not sex. Show me… meld with me again. But this time… do it like you mean it."

"It might not work… I might not be able to…"

"It will work," I said. "I know it will." Very softly, I added, "Please?"

His breath hitched and his eyes grew wider, but after a moment, he nodded. "Give me a minute." He, too, dressed in fresh clothes he'd brought with him, and then he asked the computer to increase the room temperature.

We sat on the floor, our legs crossed, our knees touching, and he guided my fingers to his temple, then put his fingers on mine. They were burning hot. Or I was freezing cold. Maybe both.

"My mind to yours," he began, speaking the ritual words, but I quickly lost track of what they were, because all of a sudden I heard him in my head, only it wasn't really _hearing_ so much as _knowing._

_Zoe?_ His mind-voice was cautious.

_Tev? Are we... together?_

_I think so._

And then he _felt_ at me, and I knew – really **knew** \- that he didn't want to leave, that he really did love me. I tried to reflect back what I felt for him: love and desire and hope, and the knowledge that high school sweethearts never last forever.

When he pulled away from our connection, when we were both just ourselves again, he was very quiet, and tears were streaming down my face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, more tentatively than I'd ever heard him speak.

I rose to my knees and pulled him close, kissing him. "I hate this," I said. "I hate that you're going, and I hate that you knew and didn't tell me, but I'm not mad at you. How could I be."

"So… what now?"

I sat back and was quiet for a moment. Finally, I said, "I guess…we just try to make the most of the few days we have left, and keep in touch as best we can." I managed a watery smile. "Deal?"

He smiled back at me. "Deal."

We put socks and shoes back on, gathered our belongings, and ended the holodeck program. He walked me back to my quarters, and we kissed at my door, lingering. "You should come in," I said.

"Zoe…your mom…"

"I'm tired. I need to sleep. I don't want to miss a second of time with you, and Mom will understand." I wasn't all that certain about the last part but I was willing to take the chance.

"And if she doesn't?"

"She'll just have to deal."

We went to my room, to my bed, but we didn't undress, just laid down to sleep, and if my dreams that night – morning – whatever - were about the universe shattering around me, at least I had Tev's heartbeat pulsing against me like a beacon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Tev and his family are really leaving the Enterprise. (In my original outline, Tev was going to die, but he insisted that shouldn't happen.) We'll see him again at some point. Yerbian prayer beads are my own invention. Think of them as something like mala beads. There's no canon planet called Yerbia, but the name was inspired by yerba buena, the Spanish catch-all name for various types of mint.


	32. Wallowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With T'vek gone, life is almost back to normal, but first Data escorts Zoe on a shopping trip to buy a new cello, and Zoe ends up peripherally involved when Jake Potts's little brother goes missing.

**Stardate 44080.56**

**(Monday, 30 January 2367, 09:45 hours, ship's time)**

The _Enterprise_ had been at Ogus II for three days before Captain Picard actually granted liberty to the crew, but that actually worked well for me, because it meant I didn't have to choose between spending time with T'vek before he and his family transferred over to the _Berlin_ , and going cello shopping with Data.

I did, however, have to suffer through a week of classes after our extended holiday break, but since T'vek was in some of those classes with me, it hadn't been so bad. On Friday, the day of the actual transfer, I'd been excused from classes, first to be in the transporter room for a final goodbye, and then to have time to wallow – my mother's word.

I'd spend the weekend lounging around our quarters in ratty sweatpants and one of Tev's old tunic-style shirts, alternately sleeping and crying, but by Sunday evening I felt pretty much like myself again, so when Data stopped by to ask if I wanted to join him on the first shuttle down to the planet the next morning, I said yes.

Well, actually I said, "That depends. My math tutor is a little anal about attendance and I already missed a day this month."

"That is not an obstacle to this plan," he replied. "I have cancelled tomorrow's class so that we may make the trip, and should the excursion require that you miss your afternoon classes, I will ensure that you are not penalized." He waited a beat, then continued, "Have you forgotten that I assisted you in 'catching up' after your illness last year? Do you believe that I would suggest missing a class if I thought it would adversely affect your education?"

"Well, when you put it that way," I said, managing a real smile for the first time in days. "Then if it's okay with my mother, I'll be ready whenever you say. What time?"

"I will stop by to pick you up at nine hundred hours," he said.

I made a point of being ready at eight-forty-five.

The next morning, I was surprised to find that Data was just a passenger on the shuttle, one of the smaller ones that didn't have the bunkroom and dining suite modules, though he introduced me to the pair of officers who pulled that duty. "Lieutenant Morris, Ensign Barnett, this is Zoe Harris. She will be my guest today."

Each of them gave me the kind of automatic greeting that was technically polite but meant they were focused on their job, and didn't want to mess up in front of a superior officer. Any other day, I might have laughed at that, at least a little, but, even though I was happy to be getting off the ship for a while, I wasn't really in the mood for laughter.

"Yes, sir. We'll be underway shortly, sir. We're waiting for a few more passengers."

"Very well," Data said. To me, he said, "On our trip to Serenity Five, I observed that you enjoy the ability to see where we are going. The port side will give you the best view of our approach."

Ordinarily, I'd have been delighted to be offered the window seat, and equally delighted with the discovery that my friend had noticed my preference for said seating. Instead, I merely shrugged, and said, "Okay, thanks," before sliding into the port side bulkhead seat.

If Data was puzzled or concerned by my atypical behavior, he didn't comment on it, just took the seat next to me.

Our travel companions joined us a few minutes later, one of the elementary school teachers, and a pair of boys whom I recognized as the Potts brothers, Jake and Willie. "Hey, Zoe," the older boy greeted me.

"Hey, Jake," I answered back. I wasn't really in the mood for little kids, although these two weren't entirely awful, but on the other hand, I knew what it was like to be a kid surrounded by adults all too well.

The teacher, Ms. Simms, ushered them to the starboard side of the shuttle, to the two rear seats, and took the front one on the same side, greeting Data first and then telling me, "It was so nice of you to include the boys in your birthday party last week, Zoe. Their aunt is here on Ogus II waiting for her own ship to arrive. We're spending the morning with her, but it's been rough with their parents on sabbatical."

I resisted the urge to shrug again, and even managed a smile. "Couldn't let all that cake go to waste, and anyway, birthdays are meant for sharing. Also Ed – Professor Benoit? – seemed to enjoy spending time with them. I think he misses his own kids."

"I did not realize you knew the professor," Data said to me.  

"He took over our lit class when school started last week, but Tev and I ran into him on the beach the day we all went to Santa Cruz," I explained. "Although, it would be more accurate to say that Bogart ran into us."

"Bogart?" the question came from Ms. Simms.

"His dog."

"Professor Benoit brought a dog aboard the _Enterprise_?" she asked.

"Pets are allowed," Data confirmed, "as long as they are up to date on all required vaccinations, and are not considered to be dangerous animals."

"Bogart's only dangerous if you're wearing white pants," I put in. "I bet if you asked nicely, Ed – Professor Benoit – would let you guys meet him," I told the boys.

Willie, the younger one, lit up at the thought. "Really? Do you know if he plays fetch? I used to have a dog, and we played fetch."

I shrugged. "Not a clue. But you guys met the professor at my party, so it's not like you're strangers. Go ask him after classes someday."

For the rest of the - blessedly short – journey, the boys babbled about dogs.

**(=A=)**

The music store my father had recommended was called CrossBows, and the logo on the building was a stylized skull and bones, except that the skull was formed from a cello bridge and the bones were – you guessed it - crossed bows. "Data, do you think it's a good sign that they use a pirate theme?" I asked, looking up at the sign.

"The sign itself appears to be something that would appeal to you," he said. When I glanced up at him, he added, "I believe your father knows your tastes well," he added.

I shrugged. "Yeah, sometimes. Shall we go in?"

"That would be the logical first step toward acquiring a new instrument for you." He reached for the door, opened it, and held it so that I would have to enter first.

Inside, the space was warmly lit, and smelled of wood and varnish, rosin and wax. Stringed instruments – violins and celli, as well as guitars, banjos, and lute-like instruments from many worlds - were hanging from the walls. A bell tinkled above our heads as the door swung closed behind us.

"I'll be right there," called a warm female voice. "Feel free to look around, and try anything that calls to you."

We proceeded to do just that, picking up, not just classical instruments, but experimenting with the guitars as well. Data played a few bars of a classical piece on one of the acoustic six-strings, and I stopped to listen. "I didn't know you played guitar," I said. "I've always wanted to learn."

"It is something I 'picked up' from a group of people we encountered before you were aboard the _Enterprise_ , he explained. Has your mother told you about the cryogenic ship we encountered?"

"The one with people from the twentieth or twenty-first century?" I asked. "I vaguely remember her talking about the cultural information she got from them."

"Their perspective was unique. In any case, one of the…passengers…was a country-and-western musician. He played the guitar as well."

"Would you teach me sometime?"

"If our schedules allow it, I would be happy to," he agreed.

He went back to playing the instrument, and I found a cello that seemed to be calling my name. It was obviously older, and it wasn't quite true to size – not as large as a typical full-sized cello, and not as small as a 7/8-scale, or "lady's" cello, but almost a hybrid. The wood was a deep mahogany color, and while the fingerboard was the traditional ebony, the scroll, pegs, and tailpiece were appeared to be redwood.

I plucked a string, listened to it resonate, smiled, and then looked around for a bow.

"Black or white?" came that warm voice again. I turned toward it, and almost ran into its owner, a woman of about fifty human years, with deep red hair worn in a single braid, and laughing green eyes. "I'm Cooper, by the way. And you can't be anyone but Zach Harris's daughter."

"You're right," I said. "I am. I'm Zoe." Data had joined us, and I added, "This is my friend Lt. Commander Data, of the _Enterprise_." I don't know why I said 'friend' instead of 'teacher.' I guess it was because we were here on a personal mission, and not a field trip.

"Nice to meet you Zoe, and Friend-Data," she said, blithely ignoring his rank. "So, black or white?"

"Black or white _what_?" I asked.

"Oh, right. Horsehair. For the bow?"

I grinned. "Black, please."

"One moment." She disappeared, then returned with a bouquet of cello bows, all with black hair. "We keep them in the back," she said, "because when young boys come in they tend to believe bows and swords are interchangeable. Girls, too, sometimes, but mostly boys. Have a seat. Play for me, so I can tell if you're the right person for this cello."

I picked a bow, took the cello to the chair she'd indicated, extended the end-pin, and checked the tuning, which sounded fine to me, but Data said, "Bring the A-string up a quarter-tone," and I adjusted it ever so slightly, playing the open string over and over until it met with his approval. "No such thing as special android tuning, my ass," I muttered softly enough that only he could hear.

I earned a lifted brow from him, but that was all.

"Play," Cooper commanded again. "Play anything. Play 'Twinkle' if that's all you can come up with."

I smirked, and played the first song every string player learns, 'Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,' but I played it all on the A-string with extended positions, and used syncopation to vary the melody a little, neither of which she was expecting.

Cooper smirked back at me, "Okay," she said. "Play something real."

I gave her my best rendition of another cello classic, Saint-Saens' 'The Swan.'

"It seems to like you," she said slowly. "You really should try another instrument to be sure…"

"I like this one," I said. "I don't know why, though. It just feels right."

Her smirk became a proper grin. "Still, you should try another. Something a little bit more stylish, maybe?" She handed me a maple instrument with bright flaming, holding the other aside. "Just try it, to say you did."

I shrugged and played a few scales, but the tone was tinny and too bright, and I wrinkled my nose. "Too new," I said. "Needs to season. Would be a good rental for a kid."

"She's good," Cooper told Data. "You're good," she said to me. "Especially for someone who's not much more than a kid herself." Her gaze turned appraising. "Though you don't play like a child at all. You're what…sixteen? Seventeen?"

"Sixteen," I said. "Just turned. Does that matter?"

"Not really, I just like to know if I'm right. It's tough, isn't though? Having one foot in each world? I'll need you to try one more, because your father will kill me if I don't make you."

"That's fair," I said. I knew how my dad was with instrument selection. She was probably right. She was definitely right about the foot-in-each-world thing. The third cello was sort of in between the other two. It was a lovely dark walnut color – nearly black – which I liked, but when I played it, the strings felt ponderous, and didn't respond well. "No." I said. "Just…no."

She gave me the funky cello again, and I played it one more time, only it wasn't just a test play. The instrument sucked me into it, almost like a seduction. I let my fingers dance into the extended positions of a tarantella Seth had assigned. I was dreading resuming lessons with Seth, but I loved the way the piece moved. I played through all of it before I remembered that this was a shopping trip, and that Data had given up his morning for me. Again.

"Yep," she said staring at me, "it definitely likes you, and you're definitely Zach Harris's kid. Let's talk payment."

We agreed on a price – less than Dad had budgeted, but not much less, once I added the bow, extra strings, and a new case. "I have a gig bag," I explained, "but I'd like a case with a hydrometer built in. I'm concerned about the dryness of starship air."

Data stood by and watched as we did business, and then stepped in to arrange for my purchases to be beamed directly to the ship. Then we both thanked Cooper for her time. "You keep in touch, Zoe Harris and Friend-Data," she said, her smile affectionate. "Play on."

Once we were outside, my tutor observed, "You did not appear to require my presence."

"Actually, I did," I said. "If you hadn't been with me, I'd have been nervous and shy, and anyway, Mom wouldn't let me come here alone, and she had a duty shift she couldn't get out of." More softly I added, "I think she feels guilty for being in recovery for so long."

"The ship was in Spacedock for much of her recovery," Data reminded me gently. "No one begrudges her that time."

Acting on impulse, I reached for his hand, but then I stopped myself, and just said, "Thank you. Aren't we heading back now?" He'd begun to walk in a direction opposite from where we were to meet the shuttle.

"I was under the impression that a ritual meal was required after making a major purchase," he said.

"Ritual meal? Data, is that your way of inviting me to lunch?" It was nearly that time, after all, and I was hungry.

"Yes," he said. "I have noticed your interest in new culinary experiences." He was referring to the food slot adventures I'd engaged in when Mom was in the hospital. "As well, your mother expressed concern that you are still upset over the departure of your friend. She seemed to think a 'lunch date' would cheer you up."

"Tev and I weren't just friends," I said, almost snappishly. Then I sighed. "I'm sorry. I get cranky when I'm hungry."

"Yes," he said. "I have noticed that, as well. Are you accepting my invitation?"

"That depends. Am I going to be the only one eating while you sit across from me with an empty plate? Because _that_ wouldn't be at all weird."

"I do not understand." He said it in the tone that meant he actually _did_ understand, but that I'd made a faux pas he was pretending not to notice. It was something he typically only did with people he was close to, which made it worse, somehow.

"I know we've had meals together before, but I also know that you don't actually need to eat," I began slowly and patiently, though I shifted into teenage rant mode fairly quickly. "If the only reason you've invited me to lunch is because my mother thinks I'm too depressing to be around, and you're not going to eat, then I'd rather skip it." I was on the edge of rudeness, and I knew it, and tried to backtrack. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you're one of my favorite people in the world to spend time with, but on the occasions that you've chosen _not_ to eat when we've been together, it's made me feel kind of like a lab rat." I shifted my tone, imitating the narrator of a nature documentary, "The adolescent human has a penchant for foods that fall into the four main categories of cheesy, crunchy, salty, or cream-filled."

"Zoe." Just my name, in his calmest tone of voice, was all he said, but it was enough to snap me out of my rant.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. "I thought I was better today, but I'm actually kind of a mess."

"Would it help you to discuss it?" he asked.

"Yeah, probably."

"Then let us do so over lunch, which I _will_ eat."

"Okay."

"I do not think of you as a 'lab rat,'" he added.

That made me smile again. "Okay."

He had already picked out a local restaurant, and we were seated immediately when they realized he was from the _Enterprise_. I noticed the size of the portions being delivered to other tables, and observed that they seemed huge.

"It is the local custom that those who dine together share their entrees," Data explained. "The portions are meant to be divided."

"Oh, that makes sense," I said. "So that takes meat off our menu then, doesn't it?" T'vek had never been the only vegetarian in my life.

"It does."

We chose a spiced lentil dish that came with tart yogurt and stewed root vegetables, all served on a bed of flatbread, which you were meant to use to scoop the food. I'd never seen Data eat with his fingers before, and privately, I was amused by the thought.

**(=A=)**

"That was amazing," I said. "I'm glad you suggested it."

"I had not realized that nutmeg could be used to enhance savory flavors," he observed. "It was an intriguing combination."

"Does that mean you liked it?" I asked, teasing him just a little.

"You know that I cannot like or dislike anything," he began.

" _You_ know that's totally bogus," I said, matching his placid tone. I continued, "If you _really_ had no preferences about anything you wouldn't still be wiping your fingers with that ever-so-clever moist towelette because you don't like being sticky, and you wouldn't have a best friend."

He opened his mouth, likely to rebut my statement but he seemed to change tacks before he actually spoke, finally saying, "I will consider your perspective. However, the answer to your original question is that it is not the experience of the food I have consumed that is of import to me, but rather, the company."

"Flatterer," I teased.

"May I assume that your improved mood is a sign that you have had a 'good time'?"

"Yeah," I said. "You may assume that," I was mimicking him again, but not to mock – never to mock – and I'm pretty sure he understood that. "Data…" I let my voice relax into a more serious tone, "may I tell you something, as a friend, that I wouldn't tell you as second officer? And can you accept that it's only my _friend_ who I'm talking to?"

"I will do my best to confine myself to those limits."

'That's fair. Seth – Lt. Starker – contacted me about resuming lessons with him next week. I know I need the help with technique, but sometimes being with him makes me feel really… uncomfortable."

The head-tilt that came with Data's response was not unexpected. "I am not certain I understand. Has Lt. Starker done anything to make you feel unsafe in his presence?"

"Not really. It's more a … a vibe… a feeling. Sometimes he gets kind of hands-y when he thinks I'm not holding the bow the way I should or extending far enough down the fingerboard. He'll stand behind me, and adjust my arm, or put his hand over mine, and move the bow. Sometimes when he's looking at me, I feel like he's… leering."

"This is not recent behavior." It was absolutely not a question.

"No," I said softly. "It's not. It's not even unusual behavior when you're working on technique – well, the leering is, but not the rest – it's the _way_ he does it, the way he acts." I hesitated, took a sip from my water glass. "It's part of the reason I was a little uncomfortable when we moved our Saturday sessions into your quarters. But you're… you. You're never creepy."

"I see. Have you discussed this with Lt. Starker?"

I shook my head. "I tried once, but, the words wouldn't come out. And since then… I've tried to deflect it; we moved my lesson to one of the lesser-used observation lounges. Tev used to make a point of meeting me afterward, and walking me home. Not that I need protection, exactly, but - "

"You were attempting to make it clear that you were not available." He cut me off with his statement.

"Something like that, yeah."

"And now T'vek has gone."

"Yeah," I said. "There's that. Which is another issue in itself – we didn't technically break up, but long-distance relationships never work, and we're in high school, and I'm pretty sure neither of us ever thought we were a forever thing."

"Zoe."

Just my name from Data's lips brought me back to center. "Sorry. You're easy to talk to. I didn't mean to dump on you."

"You did not. However, I do not believe you were done telling me about Lt. Starker."

"No, I wasn't. Well… the thing is… I'm sixteen now."

"Why is that significant?"

I blinked at him, unsure how to answer without making things really awkward. Finally, I said, "You have pretty much all standard Federation law in your head, don't you?"

"I can access legal code, yes."

"Access standard age of consent laws."

His eyes did their birdlike flicker, though he didn't utter the word 'accessing,' until finally he said, "Ah."

"That's all, just 'ah?'"

"I now understand your dilemma. You are concerned that Lt. Starker, who is no doubt aware of your status, will be seeking to change the parameters of your relationship. How can I help?"

"That's just it, Data. You can't. I mean, technically he hasn't done anything wrong. I think he's a little attracted to me, which isn't… I mean, you know how intimate music can seem sometimes?" I waited for his confirming nod. "He's pretty young for a lieutenant, actually, only twenty-four, but the even though the math is the same there's a big difference between sixteen and twenty-four that there wouldn't be if I were, say, twenty-one, and he was twenty-nine, but that's not the point; I just get a weird vibe from him, like he likes me more than he should, or in a way that he shouldn't. I'm not asking you to fix anything. I just needed to tell someone."

"I am honored that you chose to confide in me," he said. "May I ask why you haven't talked about this with Counselor Troi?"

I shrugged. "Well, first I haven't seen Seth since I've been back on the _Enterprise_ – he's messaged a couple of times, but I was focused on Mom. And second… she'll make me figure out _why_ I get a weird vibe from him and how that makes me feel, and I'm just not in the mood to go there yet." I waited a beat. "Anyway, thanks for listening."

"That is what friends are for," he said, which made me grin as I suspect he intended. But his tone turned quiet and serious afterward. "If his behavior becomes in any way threatening, or your 'vibe' mutates into a real cause for concern, I must insist that you tell me."

I nodded. "I will," I said. "I promise."

The server came back to ask if we wanted the bill split, but Data looked at me and said that lunch was on him, and he used the voice I expect he used with bratty ensigns more often than bratty teenagers, the one that meant there was no point in arguing, so I excused myself to use the restroom, and told him I'd meet him outside.

**(=A=)**

We were just outside the entertainment complex where the Potts boys had met their aunt, when Data's comm-badge chirped.

"Data here," he said after tapping it. It was interesting watching him shift back into his 'officer mode.' I'd seen my mother do it, but with him it was way subtler.

-" _Commander Data, this is Ms. Simms. There's been an accident with the Potts boys. Willie is missing, and you're the closest officer currently planetside."_

"What is your present location?" he asked.

\- _"At the arcade, in the manager's office, just inside the main entrance."_

"I will be there shortly," he said. "We are just outside. Data out." He closed the signal, and looked at me. "We must hurry," he said, and turned back toward the arcade, taking more purposeful strides, yet not going so fast that I couldn't keep up.

The young, blonde, teacher was seated with Jake Potts – the older of the boys -  and the manager of the arcade when we got there, and she stood up when Data and I walked in.

"Thank you for coming, Commander," she said, and I had to wonder if she was being formal with him because of Jake, or because she was a teacher and it was just her way. "Willie and Jake were playing laser tag, and someone pulled a prank that was less than funny."

"In my experience, pranks rarely are," Data said. I made a mental note to ask him about that sometime. "Jake, where did you last see your brother?"

The kid was covered in red goo and obviously terrified. "He ran out of the laser tank… he… I…."

"You used stage blood, right? In a bag or balloon?" I'd seen the trick done before. Actually my cousins and I had played the trick on older relatives more often than we probably should have.

"How'd did you know?"

I took the seat next to Jake. I could tell all the adults were annoyed with him, and I was pretty sure he hadn't really meant to scare his brother quite so badly. I didn't like little kids, but he clearly needed an ally. "You're not the only one to fool someone that way. Next time add a little green dye to the red. It makes the blood look more visceral."

We chatted for a while as Data, Ms. Simms, and the arcade manager discussed their game plan. Finally, Data contact the _Enterprise_ and asked for a security detail. They would partner with arcade employees to search for Willie. Once they'd arrived and been sent off on their kid-hunt, Data turned back to me, "Zoe, I can arrange for you to be beamed back to the ship if you like."

"I'd offer to help look, but I'm not exactly dressed for it," I said. I hadn't worn a skirt, but I was wearing dressy pants and strappy sandals, rather than my usual jeans-and-t-shirt attire. "Are you sending Jake back?"

"I would prefer that he remain here."

I glanced at Jake, then back at Data. "If it's okay with you and Ms. Simms, I'll stay here and hang out with him."

The two of them conferred quietly, before Data said, "That would be agreeable. Do you have your comm-badge with you?"

"In my purse," I said, "But I thought they were locked so they only worked on the ship?" I pulled it out as I answered his question, and handed it to him. He did something with the tri-corder the ship had beamed down to him. "It will work here, now. Use it in case of emergency, or if Jake remembers anything else about where his brother may have gone."

I'd never really interacted with him in full-on officer mode before. If he was being just Data, I'd have said okay, and been done with it. But he was interacting with people other than just me. "Yes, sir," I said, the words feeling really wrong in my mouth.

"Please do not stray from the immediate vicinity," he added.

"Yes, sir," I repeated flatly. I hadn't called Data 'sir' since the day I'd asked to be in his tutorial, when he'd told me to use his name, and in truth, I don't think he would have cared if I hadn't, he knew I respected both him as a person, and his authority.

There was a glint of something other than just-business in his eye when he gave me a perfunctory nod, then, and he and Ms. Simms left to join the hunt.

I turned back to Jake. "They'll find him," I said.

But Jake was staring at me with bug-eyes. "You _know_ Commander Data?" he said.

I grinned. "Well, yeah," I said as if it was perfectly normal to be hanging out with the second officer of Starfleet's flagship. "We're friends."

**(=A=)**

Mom was waiting for me on the couch when I finally got home. Willie Potts had actually run out of the arcade and hidden in a palm grove, eaten the cove palm fruit, and been infected by parasites. Jake was confined to quarters, and Data had left messages with their parents and a couple of other relatives.

"Hey," I said, as I walked through the door.

"Hey," she answered softly. "Your cello's in your room. I didn't want to open the case without you here."

I shrugged, "I wouldn't have minded. It's really pretty. Antique, I think. Definitely old, if not. Great tone."

"Ms. Simms said you were very helpful with the Potts brothers."

I shrugged again. "I hung out with Jake, is all. He was scared, and he needed someone to be on his side for a while."

"You did a good thing," she said.

"I cracked jokes and told stories."

"Commander Data said you had the chance to beam back to the ship, and chose to stay."

"When did he have time to tell you that?"

"When I contacted him to check on you."

"Oh."

"How was your lunch date?"

"It wasn't a date, and it was a little awkward at first." I said. "But it got better. Actually, it was kind of awesome, but don't tell Data I said that."

"My lips are sealed," Mom promised. "Come sit with me for a minute."

I plopped onto the couch, then curled up against my mother. Parental comfort never goes out of style. "Mom?" I asked, as my mother stroked my hair. "How do you get used to people leaving all the time?"

I felt, rather than heard, her sigh. "Oh, Zoificus. I don't know. Maybe you never really do. You'll be able to call him tomorrow, though."

"Yeah." Suddenly, I was weepy again. "I kind of went off on Data earlier," I confessed. "He said he understood, but… God, Mom, I'm a mess inside. I miss Tev, and I'm angry that he's gone, even though it wasn't his choice and… does love always hurt this much?"

My mother kept stroking my hair. "Do you want the truth, or the lie that will make you feel better?"

"Truth, I guess."

"It hurts because you love. If you didn't…"

"I get it."

But I still spent fifteen minutes sobbing on my mother's shoulder, before she said, "Okay, enough. Go take a shower. Put on pajamas. We're breaking out the hard stuff."

"Aldebaran whisky?" I asked brightly.

"Nope," she said. "Ice cream. And hot fudge."

"Comfort food?"

" _Wallowing_ food," she corrected.

I knew better than to argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a lead-in to the episode "Brothers," obviously. I arbitrarily decided to set sixteen as the legal age of consent in the Federation (though planetary norms take precedence), because it's the average age for most of contemporary Earth, and it seemed reasonable. Zoe's new cello is a combination of my own (which is from a company called Stringworks in Wisconsin) and one that belonged to my very first cello teacher's daughter. The CrossBows logo is stolen blatantly from a t-shirt I bought at CafePress, sold by Carruther's Violins. The meal Data and Zoe share is the Ogus II equivalent of Ethiopian food. Also, a special thank you to the Guest Reviewers, because I can't respond to you. ALL of you readers are fantastic people, and I really appreciate your patience and continued support. MUSIC NOTE (Thanks to Javanyet who caught my 4 am confusion for reminding me): "The Swan" is the ultimate first cello solo for players beyond the grade school level. "Le Cygne" is from "Le Carnaval des Animaux," - "Carnival of the Animals." EVERY CELLIST PLAYS IT.


	33. ZoeLore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe picks a fight with Data after hearing about Dr. Soong's death.

**Stardate 44086.30**

**(Wednesday, 1 February 2367, 12:00 ship's time)**

Dana, Josh, and I were headed to Ten-Forward for a combined lunch-and-study session when the lights flickered and the power on the _Enterprise_ seemed to just stop and then restart again. When it did, the lighting was significantly dimmer, and a few minutes later, there was an announcement that all those off-duty or civilians should return to quarters, and everyone else should return to stations.

"I wonder what's going on," Dana said.

Josh said, "Alien incursion. I heard the Talerians were in this sector again."

"Talerians?" I asked.

"Yeah, their thing is making their ships look as if they're floating dead in space, and then, when a rescuer takes them in tow, they either blow everything up, or hijack the rescuer." Josh's answers were usually big on blood and death.

"Sounds like a truly charming group of people," I snarked. We kept going toward Ten-Forward, as the closest bank of turbo-lifts was also in that direction. When the 'lift doors slid open, we all stopped in our tracks, because there was a kid huddled in the corner.

"Hey, you okay?" Josh asked, in his best big-brother tone.

I stared at the boy – for it was a boy – realizing all at once that I knew who it was. "Jake?" I asked. "Do you mind if we share the turbo-lift with you?"

Jake was sitting on the floor, hands around his knees, which were pressed up to his chest. "He… he just… he just stopped," he said softly. "We were talking, and then he just stopped. And then he left me."

The three of us entered the 'lift and let the doors close behind us. We didn't need to discuss the alteration of our plans; we all knew we had to help the kid. Dana gave the instructions for the deck where I lived, as it was the closest. "Isn't he one of the Potts brothers?" she asked me softly.

I nodded, then crouched down to be at eye-level with him. "Hey, it's me, Zoe. We hung out together, remember? Who stopped? Who left you?"

"Commander Data," he said in a small anguished voice. "He went all… robot…"

I'd seen Data go into his 'information accessing' mode more than once, but somehow I didn't think that's what Jake meant. Still, I could tell the kid was scared. "I'm sure he didn't mean to frighten you," I said. "And you know he'd never hurt you, right?"

It took a few seconds, but Jake finally said, "Yeah. I guess. But he just _stopped._ "

I hadn't been in counseling for long, but I'd watched a lot of medical drama vids, so I knew what to say next. "I'm sure that was really scary, Jake. Was Data taking you back home?"

He shook his head. "Sickbay," he answered, his voice cracking a little. "To see Willie. But it's not like he wants to see me."

"I'm sure that's not true," I said, but when Josh, who actually had a little brother, opened up his mouth to protest, I amended. "I mean, it's kind of like when you're really mad at your parents and you yell 'I hate you.' They know you don't mean it, and _you_ know you don't mean it, but in the moment, you totally kind of do, even if really you don't." An adult would have picked on my abuse of grammar for that sentence, but I was pretty sure it counted as kid-logic, and was therefore completely understandable.

"I… I guess…" Jake allowed.

"Good. Look, I don't know if we're supposed to go to sickbay right now, so why don't you come back to my quarters with us – you know me, and these are my friends Josh and Dana – and we'll call Doctor Crusher and see what she says. Okay?"

"Okay."

I stood up again, glancing at my friends and trying to convince them of the merit of my plan using just my eyes. It must have worked, because Josh held out a hand to Jake. "Hey man, let me help you up," he said. And Jake let Josh pull him up to his feet.

Dana didn't say much, but when we left the 'lift she fell into step with me, and whispered, "That was nice of you."

"He's okay, for a kid," I whispered back. "Besides, he's probably terrified of what'll happen to his brother."

We spent the next couple of hours eating replicated pizza and teaching Jake how to play several of our favorite card games. We played for cookies, not credits, and either junk food was a great motivator, or Jake was destined to haunt casinos someday, because the kid won nearly every hand, even when we weren't making errors in his favor. Josh and Dana headed home after that, and the doctor returned my message to ask if I'd mind walking Jake down to see her.

I didn't, so we walked together down the dimly-lit corridor, and into a different bank of turbo-lifts. Half-way to our destination, Jake said, "They want me to go to counseling. Because of the prank."

"Counseling isn't that bad," I assured him. "It's more like having someone you can talk to about anything, and they don't judge, but if you have a problem, they help you figure out a solution."

"Have you ever? Been to counseling?"

I nodded, "Yeah, ever since the Borg. My mom was injured in the battle and they were worried about how I was handling it. Also, my parents are divorced, so when Mom was in sickbay I was rattling around mostly on my own, kind of like you and Willie are."

"We have officers assigned to take care of us," he said.

"I had Da – Commander Data," I answered. "Though he wasn't with me all the time. He's a really good friend, once he decides you're part of his circle."

"It doesn't bother you? Knowing he's a machine?"

I shrugged. "If it doesn't bother him knowing the rest of us _aren't_ machines, who am I to care? I mean, he's annoyingly, frustratingly _right_ all the time…" I trailed off, but Jake was grinning, so my mission was complete. Doubly so, since we'd arrived at our destination.

"Hello, Zoe, Jake." Counselor Troi was waiting for us just outside sickbay. "Thank you for keeping Jake company," she told me.

"Actually, he kept me company," I said, which made the boy blush faintly. "We had a good time. Don't ever let him play cards with you though."

"I'll try to remember that," she said. "Come with me?" she invited him, and he nodded and followed her away.

I went through sickbay to Doctor Crusher's office, where I saw her sitting at her desk. I knocked on the frame of the open door, and she looked up and smiled at me, then beckoned me inside, asking, "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," I said. "I just thought someone should know… Jake Potts said he was with Data just before that power glitch a bit ago."

"Really?" she asked, in the way that adults who have a little bit of information do when they want more pieces of the puzzle. "Data didn't do anything to him…?"

"No!" I said, though I wasn't sure why I was so loud about it. "No," I repeated again, more softly. "Jake said he just _stopped_ – his word – as if a switch had been thrown. Then he 'unstopped' but wouldn't talk, or acknowledge Jake at all. The kid think's Data's mad at him."

The doctor nodded at me. "It must've been pretty alarming for him."

"Yeah, I'd think so," I said and then I asked, because something clicked in my head and I had to know, "Data... he's _responsible_ for all this isn't he?"

"You know I can't confirm that, Zoe."

"You kind of just did," I said. "Is it weird that I'm more worried for him than I am for the ship?"

She smiled, and it was a blend of her professional smile and her maternal one. "You and Data are pretty close," she said. "So, no, I don't think it's weird."

"You'll tell someone… what Jake said? I have a feeling it might be important."

"I'll tell someone," she promised. "Now scoot on back to quarters. Your mother will be worried about you."

I laughed. "Yes ma'am," I said, as I left her office. As I moved further away, I heard her add, "And never call me 'ma'am' again."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44094.29**

**(Saturday, 4 February 2367, 10:00 hours, ship's time.)**

By the time the weekend arrived, things were more or less back to normal on the ship. Data had showed up for our math tutorial on Friday as if nothing had happened, and our class actually ended up being really interesting, as Wesley and Annette argued about slightly different methodology for problem solving, and the rest of us voted on the 'proper' way – it was, of course, a lesson in the fact that there can be more than one way to arrive at a 'correct' answer, even in math.

Friday afternoon, I resumed music lessons with Seth, who picked apart my performance with the quartet from before Christmas. "Your technique was faulty," he said, "which made some of your intonation a little off. Let me show you how to improve your vibrato."

He covered my left hand with his, over the fingerboard, and rocked it back and forth. "You've been letting all the tension come from your fingers," he said. "It needs to come from your shoulder, through your wrist."

I didn't really like him touching me that way, but I have to admit that his demonstration was effective, and when I played through that tarantella again, it was much easier, and my hand was less achy when I was done. "You might've told me this months ago," I said.

"I tried," he said. "But you were too focused on impressing Commander Data to pay attention."

"That's _not_ true," I said, but the reality was that it had been, just a little. "It makes me feel weird when you touch me," I said. "It always has. Can't you just _explain_ what you meant instead of feeling the need to treat me like a puppet?" I didn't mention his rude remarks about hands-on approaches from one of our last lessons.

"I… I hadn't realized…" he stammered. I didn't mean to… look, can I make it up to you?" For a minute he wasn't creepy, just a geeky over-achiever who clearly had no idea how to deal with women.

"There's nothing to make up," I said, "just… maybe try to be less touchy-feely?"

"Sure, Zoe," he said, but suddenly his tone seemed darker, though it might have been my imagination. "I'll try to touch and feel a bit less." Amazing how he could go from normal to creepy in five seconds flat, even if he probably meant it to be funny.

"I have to go," I said. "Study group. See you on Monday." I zipped my cello into its gig bag, and fled from his presence.

**(=A=)**

By Saturday morning, the _Enterprise_ was in orbit around Starbase 416, and my friends and I – even Dana – had all secured permission to spend some time on the space station's zocalo, which happened to have a branch of my favorite coffee place, but before that I was scheduled for the music lesson I really _wanted_ to attend.

"Come in," Data called when I activated his door chime at ten that morning.

The combined scents of varnish and linseed oil assailed my senses. He'd been painting again…the kind of painting he did when he needed to work through something, not the kind he did when he was just creating art. "What's wrong?" I asked, setting my cello in the corner by the couch. He had indeed been engaged in a paint-a-thon, though there was no evidence other than a dozen completed portraits of the same old guy.

"I was so worried about you," I said as I moved all the way into his quarters. "Dana, Josh, and I found Jake in the turbo-lift where you left him, and he was completely freaked out, and…" The paintings connected with prior knowledge in my shallow teenaged brain, and I shifted gears. "What's wrong?" I asked. "Who's the old man, and why does he look like you, if you were, you know, jowly?"

"It would be more accurate to ask why I look like him," Data said softly. "He is my father, Dr. Noonian Soong."

"I thought he was dead?" I asked.

"He is," Data said shortly. "But he _was_ not." Data was being uncharacteristically terse, always a sign that he was brooding about something.

"I haven't had enough coffee to follow this conversation," I told him. "Can you elaborate, or should I just stifle my intense curiosity and focus on music theory?"

"My father activated a homing signal in my positronic net that required me to make haste to his location, to the exclusion of any other tasks or rules."

"He _kidnapped_ you?"

"In a manner of speaking. He wished to present me with an emotion chip, but the same signal that activated my homing programming also called my brother Lore."

"I didn't know you had a brother," I said. "Can I meet him?"

"While I recognize that you have a taste for both adventure and misadventure, Zoe, please believe me when I tell you that you do _not_ want to meet Lore."

I raised my eyebrows at that. "That bad?"

"Worse," he said. "Lore overpowered me, switched our clothing while I was de-activated, and then caused a fatal injury to our father, in order to abscond with the emotion chip."

"You're kidding." I wasn't sure which was more shocking: the notion that my friend had a brother, the idea that said brother was evil, or the thought that Data's uniform was not, in fact, permanently attached to his body.

"I assure you, I am not."

"Data, your father died?"

"Yes."

"Do you need help with a funeral or a memorial or… anything?"

He shook his head. "There is no need." He waited a beat, then said, "If you will unpack your cello, we can begin today's lesson."

"Data!" I'm not sure if I was still shocked or had moved on to being horrified.

"Is there a problem, Zoe?"

"Your _father died_ ," I said. "And you're standing here telling me we can have a theory lesson as if nothing happened. I can understand no memorial – I mean, none of us ever even met the guy – but don't you need time to grieve?"

He blinked those warm yellow eyes at me, and maybe I was just projecting, but what I saw in their depths nearly killed me. What made it worse was his flat pronouncement, "I cannot grieve, Zoe. You know this."

"Bullshit," I said.

"Language, Zoe," his response was automatic, something, I had learned over the past several months, that was part of the array of files on typical teacher behavior he'd downloaded before I'd ever joined his math class.

"Don't 'language' me. We're not in class right now. And don't stand there and pretend that you can't grieve, because you've painted enough pictures of him to fill a gallery. I've seen how much you care about the people you call friends. You sat in my living room every night for at least a week, just so I wouldn't wake up to empty quarters. You tried to comfort Jake. You've done so many other things that a person who _truly_ couldn't feel would _never_ do, would never _think_ to do. There may not be tears and hair pulling, or sitting shiva, or stations of the cross or… whatever… but you can grieve, even if you do it in a particularly… Data-ish way."

He stared at me, eyes wide open, apparently taken aback at my outburst. He opened his mouth to speak, but I wasn't done. "I don't see how you can expect me to happily explain the difference between a major second and a diminished third when you've just told me your father is dead. I mean, you can sit there and tell me you're not sad until the cows come home, but I'm sad _for_ you, because you deserve to have family."

I don't know why I was so keen on picking a fight with him – because a separate part of me seemed to realize that was _exactly_ what I was doing - but I couldn't stop myself. Maybe it was still missing Tev. Maybe it was just, as my mother would have said, Being Sixteen. All I know is that I did something, then, that I'd never done before, and that I almost – _almost_ –regretted the second I'd done it: I turned around and stormed out of his quarters, and I didn't even bother to grab my cello on the way.

He didn't follow me, either because he was stunned or because he knew it wouldn't be a good idea. Whatever the reason, I was grateful, because I knew I'd been stupid and rude and a really bad friend, but there was no way I was ready to admit it, or apologize.

I took the fastest route back to quarters, where my mother was waiting on the couch, dressed in civilian clothing and sipping coffee. "I thought your lesson ran until noon," she said.

"Usually it does," I said, I could feel tears welling behind my eyes.

"Did something happen?"

"Yeah," I said. "Data just told me his father died, and my response was to behave like an idiot."

"Want to talk about it?" She patted the couch invitingly.

"Actually," I said, "what I want is retail therapy followed by a large cinnamon mocha and a slice of cheesecake."

"What time are you and your friends supposed to meet?"

"Three."

"Go change, and be ready in fifteen minutes."

"Mom?"

She smiled. "I'm sure whatever idiotic thing you _think_ you did wasn't as bad as it seems. And even if it was, dwelling on it won't help. I know forcing you to talk about it will just frustrate both of us, and frankly, I could use a little 'retail therapy' myself."

"Yeah?" The need to cry had dissipated.

"Yeah." I could hear the smile in her voice.

"Have I mentioned lately that I have the best mother in all creation?"

"Not recently, no."

"Mo-om!"

"Go change," she repeated. "Twelve minutes now." Before my door slid all the way closed, I heard her add, "And make sure you bring your comm-badge."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44094.85**

**(4 February 2367, 14:53 hours, ship's time)**

My mother had returned to the _Enterprise_ with our plunder – Starbase 416 had a surprisingly broad array of clothing boutiques, and I was sitting at one of the 'outside' tables - not that there was really an 'outside' on a starbase – at Red Sands, my favorite coffee chain in the known universe, when I caught a flash of yellow and black and pale golden skin, a combination that could only belong to Data.

I thought about getting up to follow him, because a morning of shopping and girl talk with my mother had me ready to apologize – if he'd listen – but my friends were due any moment, so I ordered my cinnamon mocha and hooked one of the public-access padds that had magazines and newsfeeds on it, and waited.

Dana and Josh arrived first, followed by Wesley and Annette, and some guy in a red uniform with the single pip that marked him an ensign. He looked a little familiar, but I couldn't place him, until Wes said, "Guys, this is Ray Barnett. I invited him to join us." Unspoken, but evident in his tone, was his plea that an extra person was okay.

I decided to pretend to be in a gregarious mood, even though I was still feeling a bit uneven. "Hi," I said. "I'm Zoe… I think I was your passenger a few days ago – the morning flight to Ogus II?"

"Right," he said, grinning. "Commander Data's friend. Sorry we didn't get to chat, then. Is the Potts boy alright?"

"I think so," I said. "I mean, we made it here, and he's been transferred to the med facility… Wes would know more, I think?"

"Willie?" Wes asked. "He'll be fine, now that he's here," he said, confirming my guess. "His parents should even be here by tonight."

"Glad to hear it," Ray said. He dropped into the chair beside me, and the rest of my friends followed suit, sitting down, and introducing themselves as they did so. "So, Zoe, what are you drinking? Is it good?"

I could smell a set-up a light-year away, and this one reeked, but Ray didn't seem like a bad guy, so I said, "It's a quad-shot cinnamon mocha. If you're not used to espresso, you should go with their regular version. It's only a double."

"Zoe bleeds coffee," Josh informed our new friend, oh-so-helpfully. "I don't think anyone can match her."

Ensign Barnett – Ray – grinned, "I was weaned on espresso," he said. "I bet I could go shot for shot with her."

"Since when did coffee supplant alcohol as the drink of choice for chugging contests?" I wondered aloud. "Order what you will, but don't cry to me if you can't hack the caff."

The server answered our summons – the tables were equipped with call buttons – and took our order – my friends ordered various strengths of coffee drinks, and we also ordered a slice each of peach cobbler, chocolate layer cake, and classic cheesecake with forks enough for everyone to share, and for the next hour we pigged out on sugar and caffeine and laughter. It turned out that Ray wasn't a bad guy. Under other circumstances I would have considered him dateable, even, but it was too soon, and I think he knew that. Still, a larger circle of friends was never a bad thing, and he seemed to mesh well with all of us.

**(=A=)**

By five, we were all ready to move on, so we settled the tab. The boys – Ray included – went off to the arcade, while Annette and Dana and I decided to see the latest romantic comedy vid in the big projection tank that the starbase had, but before we joined the ticket queue I suggested a bathroom break.

The line for the public restroom wasn't that bad, really, but no one ever gets in and out at the same time, and as I was the first of the three of us in line, I was also the first to finish. "Dana, Annette? I'll wait out on the zocalo, by the fountain," I called to my friends.

The fountain was made from lasers and holographic water, because obviously no one was going to waste real water on such a thing, but it was still pretty. I sat on the edge to wait for my girlfriends, but began scanning the crowd when it felt like they were taking too long.

Instead of Dana and Annette, I glimpsed Data again, and caved in to my impulse to follow him, off the main walkway, and down a sort of alleyway, to the kind of pub that even the edgier Starfleet types probably wouldn't frequent, let alone a squeaky-clean android. "Data?" I called.

My quarry froze, staring at me for a long moment. Finally, he said, "Greetings, Zoe."

"Greetings?" I asked, teasing just a little. "You haven't said that to me in months… I must really have managed to annoy you."

"But I cannot be annoyed," he protested.

"Yeah, right, of course you can't," I snarked. I was only a couple feet from him, by then, and I realized there was something off about his demeanor. I also realized that the pub was more of an interstellar biker bar, and I couldn't help but boggle. "You can't seriously be going in there," I said. "Unless this is one of your experiments? Are you planning to get into a brawl just to see what it's like?"

"Your curiosity will get the better of you one day," he admonished, but even though it was something he might have said to me in an attempt at teasing me back, it wasn't quite the kind of thing he'd just… say.

"Data…?"

"Zoe…?" he mimicked. "Won't your friends be looking for you?" I had reached his side, and he had reached the door, where he gave his name to the bouncer. The verbal contraction should have been a warning sign, but somehow it wasn't.

"Is the girl with you?" the bulky Lemnorian asked. "She looks kind of young."

"She's legal," Data said. "Barely, but I like'm that way." He hooked his arm around my neck, pulling me close. To anyone else, it would have seemed affectionate… or at least lustful… but his grip was tighter than it looked. Android strong, and all that. It shouldn't have taken me that long, but that's when I realized that this wasn't Data after all.

"Oh, my god," I said without thinking, "You're not – " but he tightened his arm even further, grazing my breast with his hand as he did so. He came dangerously close to finding the comm-badge I'd stuck on the inside of my shirt, so all I said was, "...kidding."

The bouncer peered at him, and then at me, finally saying, "Fine. Whatever. Ain't my neck. Go on in."

Lore – I was certain that's who it was, I mean, how many Soong-type androids could there possibly be? – pulled me with him into the dimly lit interior of the bar. "I know you're important to my dear brother," he hissed into my ear, though anyone else would have thought he was just nuzzling my hair. "Play along and you just might get to see him again. Don't answer out loud; subvocalize. Do you understand?"

"Mmhmm," I said softly.

He let go of my neck and put his arm around my waist instead, resting his hand on my hip, and we sauntered – well, he sauntered, and I went along for the ride – to a table in the back.

We passed a few other Starfleet types, mostly in ops or command colors, most looking grizzled and bleary, but the vast majority of the clientele was a lot more…rugged. A group of Orion men had pushed an Orion woman up against a dart board and were hurling throwing knives in her direction. Two Klingons and a Nausicaan were playing something that looked sort of like pool, except the cues were barbed on the ends. A Caitian wearing six pasties and a loincloth was dancing on another table, while a group of humans and Ferengi watched and – there really was no other word for it – cat-called.

"So, Zoe Harris," Lore asked, the smirk on his face matching the syrup in his voice, "how much has my brother told you about his evil twin?"

"He never said you were evil," I answered truthfully. It came out a bit more panicky than I wanted, but I couldn't help it; my pulse was racing with a combination of fear and excitement. "Only that I shouldn't entertain the notion of meeting you."

"You thought I was him." It wasn't a question.

I looked around the bar, but it was dark and smoky, and I was fairly certain the door on the back wall was not actually another exit. "Wasn't that your intent?"

"Point to you."

"How did you know my name?" I asked.

"Uh-huh, sweetheart." His stereotypical noir gangster-speak was uttered with a perfect blend of bitterness and diction. "I ask the questions."

I shrugged, but it was all fake bravado, and we both knew it. "Had to try."

A server came to the table to ask for our drink order. Lore looked at me, but reverted to Data's less casual mode of speech when he answered. "Denebian scotch, neat, for me. And for the lady…"

He hesitated, as if gauging my ability to hold my liquor, and I jumped in with, "Gin martini, dirty."

Lore's eyebrows rose just a fraction in response to my order, but he said nothing. The waitress didn't respond at all, except to say "Gotcha," and walk away.

The drinks were delivered by a Ferengi in a fedora, and I had to hide my face in my hand so I wouldn't laugh. The glint in his eye told me laughter would be a very bad idea. Well, the glint in his eye and the blaster he wore under his brocade jacket.

"So, Mr. Data, you're right on time. But you were meant to come alone, and instead you insult me by parading this clothed female in front of me."

"Easy Pharyl.," Lore said. "She is of no import. Just my plaything of the moment. Give us a kiss, hon." His face loomed close to mine, and I tried really hard not to cringe.

"Please," Pharyl said. "There is no need to exchange your spit in public. Come in back with me, and we'll…negotiate."

"As you like," Lore said, sounding uncannily like Data for just a moment. He rose to his feet, and motioned to me. "Bring the drinks, babe."

I was seething inside, but I'd gotten myself into this, so I did as I was told. I picked up his glass and mine, and followed them to the back room, half expecting it to be a set-up and that mooks would jump us when we entered. I mean, there are always mooks, right? To my relief, and maybe my slight disappointment, it was just an office with an ostentatious desk.

Lore took the only chair on the supplicant's side of the monstrosity, pulling me onto his lap, and reclaiming his drink, while we waited.

Pharyl made himself comfortable in the throne-like chair behind the desk. He was also the one who spoke first. "You came for a ship. I have a ship. It will cost you." He tapped numbers into a padd and slid it across the desk's surface. I couldn't read the numbers, but I could tell there were a lot of them. "That much latinum, plus you make a delivery for me when you pass Saglyth III."

"What sort of delivery?"

"The kind you make without asking."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then, Lt. Commander Data, I contact Starfleet and tell them their pet android's gone rogue, get everyone in the sector chasing you."

"I'll pay half now, half when I break orbit at Saglyth III. Gotta make sure no one objects to your package."

The negotiations went on for a while, while I sipped the martini – it was sour and salty, and a bit herbal. Not bad, really. Lore's hold on my waist never wavered though. I tried to pay attention. If he let me go, I'd need to know where he was headed. If not… but I was pretty sure he wasn't a killer, just an opportunist. Plus, it would ruin his use of Data's name and uniform if he murdered a civilian. On the other hand, hadn't he murdered Noonian Soong not even a week earlier?

Finally, the deal was done, and Lore was leading me back out of the bar, down a different alleyway, and into the residential bloc of the starbase. "Go in," he said, opening a door. Inside was the cheapest of cheap hotel rooms. It had a bed and a head with a drain in the floor and a sonic-cube shower stall in the corner. "Sit down," he said.

I wasn't stupid. I sat.

"What should I do with you, Zoe Harris?" he asked. He seemed to really enjoy using my whole name. "If I let you go, you'll run squealing to Data, and he'll be after me like a tribble on triticale. Your family is too well known for me to kill you, and frankly, if I wanted a fuck-buddy, I wouldn't pick a little girl, who's stuck on my brother."

"You're wrong on two counts, Lore," I said, using his name for the first time. "I'm not 'stuck' on your brother; he's just my tutor. And I'm _not_ a little girl." Too late, I realized he'd take the last part as a challenge.

Lore came to stand directly in front of me, not that there was really much room for him to stand in otherwise. I expected him to push me down on the bed and either hit me or seduce me. He actually did neither. Instead, ran his hands over my chest, slipped one inside my shirt, tugged the comm-badge away. "Thought you'd tensed when I touched you before," he said. He dropped it on the floor and crushed it with his boot.

"I wasn't going to use it," I lied.

"Yes you were. You just couldn't figure out how."

Note to self: never try to bluff your tutor's evil twin. It never goes well.

"I'd _love_ to stay and find out exactly how much of a little girl you really aren't," he said. "But those things are rigged to send an alert if they're destroyed, so I'll have to leave you now. Give a message to my brother for me?"

"What?"

"Tell him I said, 'Thanks for the memories. I'll be watching.'" He turned to go, then stopped at the door and came back to me. "You can also tell him I had the first taste." He gathered both of my hands in one of his, and held them, caressing my face and then teasing my ear with the other. His face came close to mine again, and I was struck by how cold and empty his eyes seemed. So different from Data's. Then his lips were crashing into mine.

Just as he forced his tongue into my mouth, his caressing hand slid down my neck to meet my shoulder, and he _squeezed_ , but as I slipped into unconsciousness, I thought I heard him say he'd be watching me, too.


	34. The First Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe reacts to her encounter with Lore.

**Stardate 44095.72**

**(Saturday, 4 February 2367, 22:30 hours, ship's time)**

**Starbase 416**

_Just as he forced his tongue into my mouth, his caressing hand slid down my neck to meet my shoulder, and he_ **_squeezed_ ** _, but as I slipped into unconsciousness, I thought I heard him say he'd be watching me, too._

It was several hours later before the sounds of comm-badges chirping and a masculine voice woke me up. I was still in the hotel room where Lore had brought me, still on the bed, and the voice in question was all too familiar.

"Data to _Enterprise_ ," he said. "Captain, I have found her. She is alive and apparently unharmed."

I heard some sort of acknowledgement come from the tiny speaker, but couldn't be bothered to parse the words. When I opened my eyes Data was standing over me, calm as ever. "Zoe," he said softly. "Your mother and the doctor will be waiting in sickbay when we arrive. Can you walk?"

I let him help me into a sitting position, and then onto my feet, but my neck and shoulder felt like fire where Lore had squeezed, and I was really wavery, as if I'd had way more to drink than one martini. "Don't think so," I said, sheepishly adding, "Sorry."

"I will carry you."

I would have protested, but there was no time. I was on my feet – sort of – and then I was being cradled in his arms. "S'posed to give you a message." I said. "S'posed to tell you 'Thanks for the memories and he'll be watching." I didn't tell him the rest.

He freed enough of one hand – gotta love that android strength – to activate his comm-badge. "Data to _Enterprise,_ " he said. "Two to beam up."

I vaguely recall arriving in the transporter room.

I vaguely recall him not waiting for a gurney and carrying me all the way to sickbay.

I vaguely recall my mother, Dr. Crusher, and Counselor Troi all watching for me with concerned faces.

I fixed my eyes on my mother's face, and over the whine of the medical tricorder, I asked, "So, how grounded am I?"

And then I don't remember anything but a hiss followed by blissful relief

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44096.11**

**(Sunday, 5 February 2367, 02:00 hours, ship's time)**

**_U.S.S. Enterprise_ **

The next time I woke up I was still in sickbay. I couldn't see the doctor, but my mother and Data were both in chairs close to my bedside. "I'm still not sure what happened," my mother was saying to him. "She was upset when she came back from seeing you this morning."

They were talking about me, and I wanted to hear the conversation, so I closed my eyes again.

"I believe I may be to blame for that," he answered her. "She took issue with a statement I made about the death of my father, and left abruptly before we could… talk it through."

"I'm sorry for your loss," my mother said, not questioning his use of the word 'father.' "Do you and Zoe often have such discussions?" Her tone held a hint of concern, and an equal amount of surprise.

"Our conversations have covered a great many subjects," he said. "However I must confess that when emotions are involved, I often have trouble…" he hesitated, as if sensing the irony of what he was about to say, "…keeping up."

I was glad to find that I wasn't the only one who found that amusing. "Well, Zoe's always been a bit of a whirling dervish," my mother told him. "Music and drama are about the only things that have ever kept her attention for very long, but I suppose that's not unusual in our family."

"It would seem she is following in her father's footsteps, so to speak."

"And her grandmother's," my mother added. "Or hasn't she mentioned who her grandmother is?"

My eyes were still closed so I couldn't see, but I was willing to bet Data's eyes were flickering back and forth as he accessed information. "I did not realize," he said after a few beats, "but I am not surprised. She is… quite expressive."

"If she's becoming a nuisance," my mother began, but then she changed tacks. "I haven't discouraged her friendship with you because I assumed you would tell her if she was overstepping her bounds. Sometimes I forget that she's only sixteen – she's dealt with so much these past few years."

"She is not a nuisance," he assured her. "I do not foresee a time when she could become a nuisance."

"If she does…"

"In the unlikely event that were to happen," he said, "I will speak with her directly."

"Data, do you mind if ask you something personal?"

"You may _ask_ ," he said, a hint of my snarky inflection in his tone. I hadn’t realized I was rubbing off on him.

My mother caught his meaning. "Fair enough. Zoe joined me on the _Enterprise_ not long after you… lost… Lal. I've often wondered if she reminds you of your daughter in some way."

I tried to keep my breathing even while I waited for his response. Wesley had once mentioned the same thing, and I couldn't deny I was curious to know the truth.

"She does not," he said softly. He hesitated, and for a moment I was convinced he knew I was awake and was going to rat me out. "Have you ever heard of two people meeting for the first time, but developing a rapport so quickly it is as if they had known each other for a much greater length of time?"

"You mean feeling as if you'd known someone forever?" my mother asked. "Heard of it. Even felt it. Why?"

"It would not be an inaccurate description of my affinity for Zoe," he said, his tone still quiet and serious. Would the bio bed alert them that my pulse had increased when he said it?

"If you were anyone else that statement would set off alarm bells," my mother said. "As it is, I worry that she's developing a cr – "

"Excuse me," Data cut her off. "I do not believe you should continue that sentence."

My mother's tone changed, "Commander, if I've offended you…"

"You have not. However, I suspect that Zoe is awake, and has been for some time."

My mother was at my side before I could even confirm that. "Hey, kiddo."

"Hey," I said, opening my eyes. "You were totally going to say 'criminal tendency' right then, weren't you?" It wasn't my best line, but I felt as if a ground car had rolled over my neck, so I figured I'd get a bye.

"Yes," my mother said, stroking my hair tenderly. "Yes, that's absolutely what I was going to say." Of course, we all knew it absolutely wasn't. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," I said. "Thirsty. Stupid."

"Mmm. Data went to find Dr. Crusher. When she gets here, we'll see about handling the first two. As for stupid, I'm still not sure what happened."

"Oh." She stroked my hair a bit more, and then Data was back with the doctor and Counselor Troi. "Do any of you people ever sleep?" I asked.

"And miss your charming company, Zoe? Not a chance," quipped the doctor. "Think you can sit up? Data, do you mind helping her?"

His hands were supporting me even before I registered the question, helping me sit. Mom fluffed the pillow that had been under my head, and I scooted back against it. "Okay," I said. "I'm way less spinny than before."

"You were dehydrated and only semi-conscious when Data found you," the doctor said. "But there were only trace amounts of alcohol in your blood. What were you drinking, anyway?"

"Gin martini, dirty," I said, echoing my drink order from earlier. My voice cracked. "Before that? Two quad-shot cinnamon mochas. Could I please have some water?"

"I'll get it," the counselor said, and I caught a glimpse of her hair swinging as she moved away and then back. "Here."

"Sip it," Dr. Crusher told me. "That would explain the dehydration…but it wouldn't have knocked you out."

"Oh, no, it didn't," I said. I waited a beat before forcing my voice into the most nonchalant tone I could manage. "The being-unconscious thing was a gift from Lore."

Four faces displayed reactions of anger and surprise ranging from Data's eyes-wide, mouth-open look of shock, to the doctor's dark glower – I didn't know, then, that Lore had come pretty close to murdering Wesley – and then all of them began to speak at once:

"My brother was on Starbase 416?"

"Zoe, don't you know how dangerous Lore can be?"

"Oh, god, Zoetrope, did he hurt you?" It was rare when my mother used my father's nickname for me.

I started to feel swimmy again, and I closed my eyes.

"Everyone, please calm down. You're overwhelming her." The last statement was from the counselor, and thankfully, silence did fall. "Zoe," she said in her calm therapist's voice. "Take a couple of deep breaths, and then sip some more water."

I did, and felt my head clearing. "Sorry," I said.

"You did nothing wrong," the counselor told me. "Are you up to telling us exactly what happened?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but my shoulder is really hurting."

Dr. Crusher came to take another look. "Zoe, you have a bruise here. Did Lore hit you."

"No, he…squeezed."

"Likely a nerve pinch," Data said. "It is an elegant way to render someone unconscious very quickly."

I felt the hiss of a hypo-spray, and then cool relief flooded through my shoulder. "Better." I said.

My mother sat on the edge of the bed, and took my hand. "Just tell us what happened. Your friends said you disappeared outside a public restroom. What made you seek out Lore?"

"I didn't seek him out," I said. "I followed him, and at the time I _thought_ he was Data. He was wearing a Starfleet uniform."

"Lore did steal my uniform before he left our father," Data confirmed.

I told them everything – well, almost everything. How I figured out he wasn't really Data, but he stopped me from saying anything. How he put his arm around me and played me off as his lover, and how he said if I went along with him he'd let me go. "He knew my name," I said. "He knew who I was. He thought… he said I was important to you." My eyes were fixed on Data's face as I said those words.

"When did you realize that you were not actually with me?" Data asked.

"When he was telling the bouncer he liked his women barely legal," I answered, "and feeling me up in the process." I added. "Anyway, there was a Ferengi…" and then I laughed as a riff from a truly ancient movie came into my head: "The Ferengi with the fedora had a blaster under brocade," I sing-songed., and then, because all four of the adults around me were wearing blank expressions, I said, "Never mind. There was a Ferengi with a blaster, and he took us into the back room, and Lore pulled me down onto his lap."

"His lap?"

"There was only one chair. He kept his hand on my hip the whole time. It probably looked affectionate, but I'm betting there's bruising there too, and could we _not_ find out with Data here." I took a beat. "Sorry, Data."

His response was just the hint of a head tilt, but I understood him. He wasn't offended, and he understood my shyness.

The doctor was scanning me again. "I'll send you home with some salve," she said. "Just in case."

"How did you end up in the hotel room?" Data asked.

"Lore and the Ferengi… Pharyll…His name was - is? – Pharyll. They were negotiating about a ship, but most of it was writing numbers down on padds, and passing them back and forth, and I'm sorry, but I can't read as fast as you can Data. There were a lot of zeroes in the amount of latinum required… and a drop-off. Lore was supposed to make a drop-off."

"Do you know where?" he asked.

"Sag… something? Saggy Lips? Sag Glyph?"

I saw Data's eyes flickering. "Is it possible the destination for the drop-off was _Saglyth_?" he asked, emphasizing the word.

"Yes! That's it! Saglyth! Saglyth III." I had to close my eyes again. "Why can't I think straight?"

"It's a side effect of the nerve pinch, Zoe. You'll be fine after you've rested more," the doctor promised.

Counselor Troi was studying me as I spoke. "Zoe, at any point did you consider trying to get away?"

"I should have, I guess," I said. "Part of me wanted to see what would happen. At the beginning, anyway." I blushed, and addressed Data again. "You weren't wrong about me having a taste for misadventure. Or at least, for thinking I did."

"But your adventure got a little too real?" My mother, that time.

"Kind of, yeah." I sipped more water, and took another deep breath. "Anyway, he took me to his hotel room – Data's being kind by calling it that – it was a ratty bed-n-head, like from a crime story. He kept his arm around me the whole time. If anyone had seen…"

"They would have thought you wanted to be with him." That was also Mom.

I blushed, but I wasn't sure why. "Yeah. Probably."

The counselor sat on the other side of me, also on the edge of the bed. "Zoe, in the… hotel room… did you and Lore…?" She hesitated. "Do you want Data to leave while I ask you this?"

"What? Oh. Oh, no." She was trying to ask if Lore had raped me, or if we'd had sex. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. There wasn't. He didn't. He flat out said he wasn't looking for a fuck-buddy, and even if he was he didn't want a little girl who was stuck on this brother." As soon as I said it, I thought maybe I should have let them send Data out of the room, after all. "Which I'm _not,_ " I said. "And I told him so."

My mother started to chuckle, then. "Let me get this straight. An evil android – sorry, Data – "

"I am not offended."

" – takes you to a hotel and instead of being afraid he'll rape or kill you, you're afraid it might get around that you have a crush on your tutor?"

"Mom!"

"Zoe…,

"Kind of," I said. "Straw, camel, all that."

"Sorry, kiddo."

Sheepishly, I added, "I might've also said something about not being a little girl. But for the record I _was_ afraid."

"You were bluffing him," Data said softly. "Were you not?"

I met his eyes for a long moment, before I admitted. "I wish that's what I'd been doing. Sorry to disappoint you, but I was hopped up on caffeine and sugar and gin, and really just didn't have any filter."

"You did not…" Data began.

But I cut him off. "He told me to sit, but the room was small and the bed was the only furniture. He told me to give you a message. I gave it to you, didn't I?"

"'Thanks for the memories,'" Data repeated. "And that he would be watching."

I nodded. "He held my hands in his," I said. "And he touched my chest…found the comm-badge… pulverized it." I had to close my eyes for the rest. "He was in front of me, and I thought he was going to push me onto the bed. For a moment it felt like he was. But he just caressed my face, and my neck… and then he squeezed."

"Zoe, you're leaving something out," the counselor said softly.

I looked her in the eyes and then looked away. "Yeah, but it's not really important."

"Let us decide that."

"He kissed me."

"Why do I get the feeling we're not talking about a quick peck on the cheek?" asked Dr. Crusher. "Zoe…" she glanced at Data, then back at me, "…you're sure that's all?"

"He said that when comm-badges are destroyed they send an alert signal – is that true?" I waited for Data's confirming nod, but either it never came, or I missed it. "He said that if he didn't have to go he'd have liked to find out how 'not a little girl' I claimed to be." I imitated his tone when I said it. "And no, the kiss… it wasn't… it was…I probably should have bitten his tongue or kicked him in the balls, or something. Would that have even worked?"

"It is unlikely that you would have been able to make contact," Data informed me. "But if you had… yes, it would have… worked."

"Good to know."

"Do you anticipate needing to know how to defend yourself against Lore?" Data asked.

It was clear that everyone in the room wanted to hear my answer. "There was a little more to his message," I said. "He said he'd be watching me, too." I looked around at these people – my mother, my friend, the two women who both only wanted help me. "Can you just start yelling now and get it over with? I'm really tired."

My mother's arms came around me, holding me tightly. "Oh, sweetheart. No one's going to yell at you. Not for this." She waited a beat and then grinned at me, "You are, however, grounded 'til you're fifty. For your own protection."

"That could be a problem if you ever want me to go to college," I pointed out, my voice muffled by my mother's embrace.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44100.96**

**(Monday, 6 February 2367, 10:00 hours, ship's time)**

My dreams on Sunday night began with T'vek – I'd had a comm-call with him before bed - but they were also about Lore. (Or Data?) No, I'm sure it was Lore. That kiss… that kiss that was more about assault than seduction repeated in my brain over and over, and every time, I heard the echo of Lore's words _, "…tell him I had the first taste."_

In my dream I remembered the pressure of his lips on mine, the taste of him: Denebian Scotch, faint metallic undertone, something sweet. Was the sweet just part of him?

But the dream had shifted after the kiss. I was being held against Data's chest. He was carrying me, and telling me I was safe. I wanted to stay in that part of my dream. It felt like home.

When I finally woke up, I got ready for class almost as if I was on auto-pilot. I don't think my mother expected that. I think she expected me to curl up in bed for another day, and a part of me wanted to, but the part of me that wasn't a little girl any more ("… _find out how exactly how much of a little girl you really aren't_ …") knew I had to face the world – or at least my friends – as soon as possible.

"Comm me if you need anything," my mother urged as I left our quarters. She wasn't on duty until afternoon. "And if class is too much…"

"Mom, I'm fine. Really. It was just a kiss. I didn't get raped or pummeled or anything. Mostly, I'm just mortified, okay?"

"Okay," she said, but I could hear that tone…the one that meant she knew I wasn't being honest with her. The one that meant she was worried.

I was the last one into the conference room for Data's math tutorial, that morning, which was unusual for me. I slid into the seat that Dana and Annette had left open between them, and my best friend whispered to me, "Your mom comm'd us this morning…are you okay?"

I favored her with a weak smile. "Yeah, mostly. Talk later?"

She nodded, and we both turned on our padds and reviewed our notes from the previous class.

It was probably just me, but Data seemed more reserved than usual that morning. Quieter. As if he'd pulled away from all of us, a little bit. He greeted us with his customary, "Good morning," and quick nod of the head, and immediately launched into the intricacies of solving of a new kind of equation.

"The first step," he began – but I lost the ability to follow him at that point because what I heard was 'the first taste.' (" _Tell him I had the first taste. What should I do with you, Zoe Harris?")_

I shook my head, to clear it, and refocused on what Data was saying, but instead of taking notes, I tapped a message to Counselor Troi asking if I could move my regular session with her to just after Data's class, instead of our normally-scheduled day later in the week. Her response was that I should come as soon as I was available, and to have someone on the medical staff page her if she wasn't in her office when I arrived.

"A faster method for solving this type of problem," Data was saying, "is to skip…"

(" _You'll go squealing to Data…" "…faster than a tribble on triticale..." "…stuck on my brother…")_

I don't know if I did something physical to draw his attention, but Data broke off his lecture and called my name. Actually, I think he said my name a couple of times before I responded.

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked.

"It is unlike you to be distracted in class, Zoe. Are you alright?" I hesitated. It was pretty obvious that I wasn't alright, but I really didn't want to admit it. "Zoe…?"

I pushed my chair back and stood up. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm really not. I need to go now."

He seemed to want to say something meaningful, or at least comforting, but we were in the middle of class, and as it was all my friends were staring at me. "I will send the class notes to your padd," he said simply. "Contact me if you require assistance."

"I will," I said. "Thanks."

I left the room, taking a few minutes to catch my breath before I headed to the nearest turbo-lift, and then to the counselor's office.

**(=A=)**

Counselor Troi was just returning to her office as I got there, and I must have looked pale, because her dark eyes got huge, and she wrapped a reassuring arm around me. "I'm not going to ask if you're alright," she said, "because you're clearly not. Would you like a drink? Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate?"

"Tea'd be good," I said. "Peppermint?"

"Alright." She ushered me to a comfortable chair and I folded myself into it, sitting cross-legged on the seat. "Just a minute."

The mug was hot in my hand, but the mint seemed to clear my senses. "Thanks," I said. I wrapped both hands around the mug, just holding it.

"Can you tell me what happened?" she asked after a couple of minutes of just letting me sit.

"It started last night, after I went to bed – I mean really to bed, not in sickbay."

"Go on."

"I kept dreaming about Lore and the things he said… and about him kissing me… and… I left something out last night, but I swear it wasn't anything that could help you find Lore, or anything. I just… I couldn't say it in front of Data."

"Can you tell _me_?"

I nodded. "Just before he kissed me…. before he said he'd be watching me, too?" I made it a question. "He said to tell Data… he said to 'tell him I had the first taste.' And now…  all I can hear. Data was talking about the steps in an equation, and all I could hear was Lore. In the back of my head. It was just a kiss, Couns – " but she'd given me a _look_ – "Deanna. Why am I going so crazy because of a stupid kiss?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

I rolled my eyes. "Somehow, I knew you'd say that."

"Zoe, you're sixteen. You've just separated from your first lover. You and Data have a close friendship that seems to be getting steadily closer."

I didn't respond to her directly.

"Last night in sickbay… mom and Data were talking about me."

"And you were eavesdropping." It wasn't a question.

"Well…they were right there. Wouldn't you want to know?"

"I'm not judging you, Zoe."

"No, _I'm_ judging me. Anyway, my mother was worried I was pestering him too much, and he said his 'affinity' for me – his word – was similar to when people first meet and feel like they've known each other forever. Um. Only he was less clumsy about the phrasing."

"And?"

"And my mother said she was concerned I was crushing on him. Well, she didn't say that, but I knew she was about to. Data told her I was awake before she said the word."

"I see."

"And the thing is… I didn't. I swear it was just being friends until yesterday, and then… and now…" I made a helpless half-shrug, and managed not to spill my tea.

"And now, because of Lore you're seeing Data through different eyes?"

"Yeah," I said. "Something like that. Tev asked me once, before we - before we were sleeping together, if I had a 'thing' for Data. I wasn't lying when I said no."

"I'm sure you weren't."

"So, what do I do?"

"What do you want to do?"

"Running away to become a surf instructor on Pacifica is looking awfully attractive," I said.

The counselor chuckled. "An inspired choice. Not very practical, though."

"The really fun options never are."

"No. I suppose not."

I sipped some of my tea, letting the minty warmth sit in my mouth before I swallowed it, using the time to think. "Did you mean it, about no judging?"

"I did."

"And you won't tell anyone what we discuss?"

"You know I won't," she promised. "What is it?"

"I picked a fight with Data on Saturday. I yelled at him for saying he couldn't feel grief over losing his father, when the twelve pictures he'd painted really _were_ his way of feeling it. It was just so... He went from telling me he'd met and lost his father to suggesting we just start my music theory lesson."

Counselor Troi was silent for a long moment. "I didn't realize Data had spoken to you about Dr. Soong."

"He didn't say much," I said. "I didn't really give him the chance. I blew up at him because…" The proverbial lightbulb clicked on inside my head. "…because he wasn't grieving the way I thought he should. And I should know better. I know his brooding is his way of… processing."

"But you picked a fight with him, anyway. Why?"

I thought about it. "Because…" I began slowly. "I'd been really worried about him when he was gone. And because he doesn't seem to comprehend that it _matters_ to people when he's in jeopardy." I hesitated. "And because I already lost T'vek, and my mother and father left me behind all the time, and…"

"And you don't believe you can handle losing another friend right now?"

I felt small and pathetic when I said it. "Well… yeah."

"So when you saw the person you thought was Data, you followed him," she said bringing us back to the original topic. "Why?"

"I wanted to apologize," I said.

"And when you realized it wasn't Data?"

I hesitated again. "Part of me wanted to get away, or scream for help, or…I don't know…do _something_ , but the other part…. Like I said in sickbay, Data was right when he said I liked misadventure. At first… it was kind of exciting. Like being in a mystery novel or a horror vid, but with less blood and guts."

"Danger can be exhilarating," the counselor agreed.

"I don't think he would have raped me," I said suddenly. "Lore, I mean. I'm not saying he isn't capable… I'm saying… I don't think it's his style."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. In the bar, and with the Ferengi, he was all about the chase. Once they finished the negotiation, it was like he wasn't interested any more. So no… I don't think he would have raped me…" She was watching me very carefully, but she didn't say anything, so I just continued. "I think he would have seduced me." I paused again, adding, "And I don't think it would have mattered if I was me, or just any girl. But he knew who I was, and he said I was important to Data, so I'm guessing…"

"You think Lore recognized who you were and chose to let things happen as they may?"

"Does that make me totally shallow and vain?"

"No. It makes you perceptive, though we can't really be certain why Lore didn't maintain his persona as Data and then send you away."

"That's fair." I said. "Counsel – Deanna – there was… Part of me kind of liked that kiss. Not the circumstances, but… I don't know… the… technique. And in class today… I guess part of my distraction was…"

"Go on, Zoe," she encouraged softly. "You can tell me."

"Part of me kept hearing Lore's voice in my head," I said in a near-whisper. "And remembering Data holding me – carrying me out of that room. And part of me was wondering if kissing Data would be that good."

"No," she said very firmly. "You're not. You're a young woman who is just learning to navigate the complexities of adult relationships. You're also a bit reckless, and more than a little curious."

"Lore said my curiosity would get the better of me." I said. "He was almost right."

"The more you talk about how you felt," Troi said. "The more I think Lore may have intended for someone from the _Enterprise_ to find him. Not necessarily you, but…"

"You think it's a set-up. You think everything he did was to manipulate Data?"

"I _think_ ," she said, "that you need to worry about _you_ right now, and leave the rest to the people who are trained to handle it. I also think that we need to find a way to channel your restless spirit just a bit. I know you love music, but maybe you should consider another art form as well. What do you like to do?"

"I like theater. I've done plays and musicals at home. I like to look at art, but I can't draw or paint to save my life, and clay gets under your nails," I offered helpfully. "Oh… and gardening. I used to help on the farm when I was there. Surfing, obviously. Actually pretty much anything involving the ocean."

"Doesn't soil get under your nails as well?" she asked, smirking.

"Oh, totally. But it's different kind of being-dirty."

"Let me think about some options for you, and we'll talk about them later this week, alright?" She was smiling the warm I'm-just-a-friend-you're-chatting-with smile again, and I could tell that we were wrapping up. I did feel a lot better.

"And until then?"

"What do you think you should do?"

"I still need to apologize to Data," I said. "Also, I left my cello in his quarters after the music theory lesson that wasn't…"

"I can promise you that you are more bothered by your behavior than he is," she said. "But I agree, you do need to apologize, if only to give yourself resolution. Do you feel up to that?"

"I need a more time to decompress first. I'm pretty sure Mom expected me to beg off classes today."

"You probably should have. Zoe… you went through a lot yesterday. You need to give yourself time to recover. I'll contact your afternoon teachers, for you. I want you to go home, and take some time to just rest. No homework, no practicing."

I refrained from pointing out that I literally _couldn't_ practice since my cello was still in Data's quarters. "So, what do I do? Just hang out in pajamas and watch bad vids? I'm not sick."

"Not physically, perhaps, but whether you admit it or not, everything with Lore – and even your 'fight' with Data – have taken an emotional toll on you. Data's on bridge-duty until the end of alpha shift. If you're up to it, stop by and see him this evening."

"I'll have to ask my mother. Because of the grounded-til-I'm-fifty thing." I paused. "What if he doesn't understand, or won't forgive me for being a total brat to him?"

She stood up, and gestured for me to do so, also. "If you have trouble expressing yourself with him, call me, but I don't think there will be any trouble." She offered a hug, and I accepted the invitation.

At the door, I paused. "Cou – _Deanna –_ have other people crushed on him before? And if I do have a crush, do you think I can get over it without losing his friendship?"

She smiled, and this time it was her enigmatic smile. "I've never talked to him about crushes. As to the rest, I think you and Data are good friends, and you should stop worrying about anything else."

Typical therapist: always the perfect non-answer.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44100.91**

**(Monday, 6 February 2367, 20:00 hours, ship's time)**

I did what Counselor Troi instructed. I went home from her office, and changed to ratty sweats and a Beach Haven High School t-shirt, and curled up on my bed with music blasting through my earphones and the novels my father had given me for Christmas.

I was two-thirds of the way through _Dracula_ when I fell asleep, though I woke up when my mother came home around seven that evening. We ate dinner together, and then she went back to her office to work on something for a couple of hours, and I changed into (slightly) more presentable clothing, and went to see Data.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your evening," I told him, after he invited me inside. "I came to get my cello. And to apologize for yesterday."

"I was not offen –" he started to say, but he stopped abruptly. "Zoe, I believe this is a conversation that will require tea. Would you care for some?"

"I'd like that," I said. "If you wouldn't mind clearing it with my mother first?"

"She does not know you are here?"

"She knows I was coming to get my cello. I wasn't sure if you would even talk to me, so I didn’t ask about a longer visit."

"Ah." He contacted my mother, but kept his voice low enough that I couldn't hear the details. "Your mother has given her approval."

I took my place in 'my' corner of his couch and watched as he replicated a pot of chamomile tea, honey, and cups for both of us. I got up again, to drag a chair over. "You know, you promised me that if I came back to the ship after Christmas, you'd get a proper coffee table."

"I will do so in the morning," he said, placing the tray of tea things on the chair.

"How does that work, anyway? Is there a catalogue you look at that says lieutenant commanders can have coffee tables of these dimensions and that material?"

"There is a catalogue," he explained. "Officers are allocated a certain number of 'points' to be used for furnishings and other nonstandard components. "

He reached across his desk to fetch a padd, and then sat down closer to me than was typical. I froze for a few seconds. I'd been that close to him before – we'd shared _hugs_ – but suddenly I was _aware_ of him in a way I hadn't been… before Lore.

"These are the available tables… we must stay below one thousand points."

I unfroze – I could do this – and looked at the options with him. A thousand points didn’t get very much, and I said so.

"I allocated the bulk of my points for my workstation."

"Oh." I looked at the options. "That one," I pointed to a glass oval with a cast-metal base. "That one would look good in here. It feels kind of techy, so it fits your décor, but the glass won't make the room feel small."

"Hm," he said, peering at the table I'd recommended. "I will request it." He set the padd aside, and poured the steeped tea into cups. "Are you ready to have our conversation now?"

I accepted the cup he offered. "Yeah," I said. "I am. I'm really sorry about yelling at you the other day. I saw the paintings, and knew you were processing, but I was missing Tev and I'd been worried about you. And then you were back, and I was just glad you were safe, and you were broody."

"I do not brood."

I gave him a pointed look. "Keep telling yourself that."  He didn't respond to me, so after I had some of the tea – chamomile wasn't my favorite, but I was fairly certain I knew why he'd chosen it – to relax me. "Will you tell me about him? About your father?"

"There is little to tell. He has been alive, and alone, for many years. He called me to him in order to give me an emotion chip, and Lore killed him and absconded with the chip."

"An emotion chip? Data, that’s…"  I stopped. "God, Lore took everything from you."

"Not quite. He did not take you, for example."

"He almost did." I took a beat. "Promise me you'll find him? And when you do… punch him in the nose."

His eyebrows wrinkled. "I do not believe punching my brother in the nose would cause any appreciable harm."

"Maybe not, but it would be incredibly satisfying."

"Ah."

"Yeah." I looked at him – really _looked_ at him – for the first time in a while. His face and Lore's should have been identical, but there was something softer, more innocent, about Data's features. "So, I might be a little freaked out around you for a while – I mean, I'm fine now, but…"

"I understand. I hope you know that I would never intentionally harm you, Zoe."

I smiled at him. "I do know that. I wish you'd been around to reassure Jake Potts though – he was a mess when we found him in the 'lift."

"I spent some time with both boys before they were transferred to the medical facility at Starbase 416. I brought them some toy dinosaurs from my father's laboratory."

"Oh, Data, that's so sweet. Wait… two kids you barely know get toy dinosaurs, and your favorite student, duet partner, and friend gets nothing?" I was teasing him, but I could tell that he knew it was teasing.

"You are mistaken, Zoe," Data retorted, with that so-subtle smirk he sometimes wore. "You are getting a coffee table."

I stared at him for a moment, and then I burst out laughing. I heard the echo of Lore's words in the back of my head – that wasn't going to go away any time soon – but they were less intrusive, at least.

_(Tell him I had the first taste.)_

I forced the words from my mind, and we continued our conversation, turning to lighter topics, like the books I'd received for my birthday, and the fact that the Tantalus Quartet's next tour would take them within a reasonable distance of the planned path of the _Enterprise._

By midnight, when he picked up my cello and escorted me back home, "…because I do not want to face your mother's wrath if you go missing again," he teased lightly, I felt like _I_ had experienced the first taste of adulthood, and that our friendship had achieved some semblance of normalcy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't believe assault, sexual or otherwise, should ever be used to entertain. I tried to keep Zoe's reactions in the realm of plausibility.


	35. The New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following Counselor Troi's advice to channel her vivid imagination in constructive ways, Zoe auditions for a play.

**Stardate 44143.86**

**(Wednesday, 22 February 2367, 12:15 hours, ship's time)**

Two weeks after my little adventure with Lore, I'd finally found a new rhythm to my life. School was back in session, and the return to the routine of classes was more helpful than I'd thought it would be.  Saturday sessions with Data had resumed as well, though we were now playing together as much for the enjoyment of it as for practical applications of the theory we discussed at the beginning of every session.

I was still taking lessons from Lt. Starker, as well, but at least Seth was being less hands-y, Lt. Caldwell was giving me more challenging vocal music, and I was spending a couple of hours a week – mainly Monday and Friday afternoons – helping out in the arboretum.

On the personal side of things, Wesley's friend Ensign Barnett had become 'just Ray,' who hung out with me – with all of us - sometimes, but wasn't really a potential romantic partner. I needed friends more than I needed romance, anyway, which was why we'd started going to lunch in Ten-Forward on Wednesdays after Data's math class. It wasn't always all of us, and sometimes some of the younger members of the ship's crew came to sit with us, but it was a nice ritual.

"Zoe, Josh, you are just the people I wanted to see," Dr. Crusher greeted us as we entered Ten-Forward, for one of those lunches, along with Dana and Nytan, a half-Rigellian boy who'd joined the ship with his parents when we were at Starbase 416. He wasn't in our tutorial, but we had a lot of other classes together, and it wasn't like there were many teenagers on the ship.

"Whatever it is," Josh said, only half-kidding, "I didn't do it."

I could tell the doctor was about to ask Josh exactly _what_ he hadn't done, so I jumped in with a paraphrased quote from a play, "It was late. It was dark. It was rainy. He _swore_ he was over sixteen."

"Cute Zoe," she said, then continued, "Seriously you two, the theater group has decided that _The Diary of Anne Frank_ will be our next production, and we need a couple of teenagers to play Anne and Peter."

"Isn't that a bit grim for a shipboard production?" I asked. "I mean with the ending and all. Unless you plan to use a contemporary setting and replace the Nazis with the Borg?"

She stared at me as if she'd never considered such a thing. "Interesting premise. I'll think about it. Auditions are tonight at eight in the auditorium." She glanced at Dana and Nytan, "You're both welcome to try out, also."

Dana blushed and shook her head. "No thank you. I much prefer to be in the audience. What about you, Nytan?"

Our new friend also declined. "I get stage fright," he said. "Very, very bad stage fright. Then I throw up."

"Well, we'll look forward to seeing you in the audience as well," the doctor said.

I'd seen a couple of shipboard performances, but never been in any of the theatrical pieces, having been mostly focused on music. The invitation (and I used the word loosely) to audition for this show was probably at the behest of Counselor Troi. After all, she'd been trying to fill more and more of my time as a way to channel my 'vivid imagination and reckless tendencies.'

"So, you're going to audition, aren't you?" Dana asked. "Josh has been in lots of plays since the _D_ first launched, and I know you've done theater at home."

"Yeah," I said. "I sort of have to."

Dana gave me the kind of look that meant we would talk about it later, and suggested, "We should order so we're not late to lit class. Professor Benoit is fantastic."

"He is, isn't he?" Nytan put in. "I've never enjoyed books and reading so much, but he makes you see the…I don't know…context? I guess?"

"The dude is stellar," pronounced Josh.

And then we did order, and the rest of the hour was spent talking about music and the social scene on Rigel IV, and stuff like that.

**(=A=)**

On instructions from his girlfriend, Josh stopped by my quarters and we went to the auditorium together. I wasn't surprised that the only other people even close to our age were Wesley and Annette. I wasn't surprised to find out that Data was there, too. After all, he seemed to think pretending to have emotions on stage would be a sort of catalyst for actually having them. I _was_ surprised to see Professor Benoit.

"Ed? You're auditioning for this play?"

"Ah, Josh, and my beach buddy," he greeted us enthusiastically. I was ready to bet that he wouldn't ever let that nickname go. "Bogart misses you, Zoe."

"Well," I said. "You'd never know it. He doesn't call, he doesn't write…I tried to hook him up with this really hot French poodle, and did he so much as thank me?"

"Alright, alright, I see your point," he laughed. "By the way, thank you for sending the Potts boys to meet me. I'm so glad they decided to stay on board after Willie's treatment."

"Did they?" I asked, both pleased and surprised that their parents had allowed it. "I kind of had my own stuff going on, and lost track."

"They did, and Bogart is happy to have such great playmates."

"I'm pretty sure the boys are just as happy to play with him," I said.

"Who's Bogart?" Josh asked, as he was still standing right next to me.

"My dog," the professor answered.

"You have a dog on the ship?" Josh asked. "Seriously? What kind?"

I heard the professor tell Josh that Bogart was a Labrador mix as someone came up behind me. "Zoe, I was not expecting to see you here tonight." It was Data.

"Command performance," I explained, following him into a row of seats two back from the front. I don't know why, but sitting with him felt right, even though Josh and I had walked in together. "Dr. Crusher 'invited' me to be here. I'm pretty sure Counselor Troi suggested it. All part of her master plan to rehabilitate the wild child."

"You do have a tendency toward the dramatic that might be better channeled into on-stage performances," he pointed out.

I gave him my most scathing glare, and was about to add a witty comeback, but Josh and Ed had filed into the row behind us, and then Dr. Crusher stepped to the front of the room – a raised stage wasn't actually the default configuration for the space - then began speaking when she had our attention.

"Welcome, everyone," she said. "It's good to see some new faces mixed in with the old. Zoe, you really didn't have to send a resume and headshot, but thank you. We're going to start with the readings for Anne, Peter, and Margot. I have data flimsies right here with the audition lines."

I looked over the audition sides on the sheet I'd been handed. Anne's piece was essentially a monologue, as it was one of her diary entries, and as soon as I read it through, I was pretty sure of how to interpret it. I was also certain that I really wanted to nail this role. Dad had always quoted a theater adage that directors always remember the first and last people they see, and there was no way I wanted to be last, so as soon as Dr. Crusher called for volunteers, my hand was raised.

"Okay, Zoe, go ahead," she said, with more than faint amusement in her tone. I don't think she'd ever realized just how ambitious I could be when I was motivated.

I channeled my father and his air of perpetual confidence when I left my seat and moved to center stage, but once I was there, looking out at the seats, the habits of my admittedly-short lifetime took over. ""I'm Zoe Harris, and I'm auditioning for Anne," I said in my normal voice, but loud enough to reach the back rows without any need for amplification.

I waited for Dr. Crusher's acknowledging nod, took a breath, and began the monologue, pitching my voice just a little bit higher than normal, slowing my speech, and doing my best to sound as if I were just composing the words I was speaking:

_"I expect I should be describing what it feels like to go into hiding. But I really don't know yet myself. I only know it's funny never to be able to go outdoors . . . never to breathe fresh air . . . never to run and shout and jump. It's the silence in the nights that frightens me most. Every time I hear a creak in the house or a step on the street outside, I'm sure they're coming for us. The days aren't so bad. At least we know that Miep and Mr. Kraler are down there below us in the office. Our protectors, we call them. I asked Father what would happen to them if the Nazis found out they were hiding us. Pim said that they would suffer the same fate that we would. . . . Imagine! They know this, and yet when they come up here, they're always cheerful and gay, as if there were nothing in the world to bother them. . . . Friday, the twenty-first of August, nineteen forty-two. Today I'm going to tell you our general news. Mother is unbearable. She insists on treating me like a baby, which I loathe. Otherwise things are going better. The weather is . . . ."_

Channeling Data, just a little bit, I put audio quotation marks around the phrase 'our protectors,' and I got a laugh when I emphasized the word 'unbearable,' as I had hoped I would. There was applause but I wasn't sure if it was polite, or _meant_ , or a mix of both.

"Thank you, Zoe," the doctor said. "Annette, you're next."

Back in my seat, I tried to focus on my friend's performance, but Josh wrapped his arms around me from behind, and asked softly, "Resume and head shot? Seriously? How much theater did you _do_ on Centaurus?"

"Some," I admitted. "But a lot of it was my dad going, 'Oh, you need a kid? Throw Zoe onstage.' Until I was eight, anyway."

Annette had finished her audition and one of the two ensigns – Andrea Something – was on stage plodding through the same monologue. Data seemed really put off by her lack of performance skills, and I leaned close to him to ask in my quietest voice, "So, tell me what you _really_ think of her?"

"Am I too obvious in my reaction to her obvious lack of performance skills?" he responded, equally softly.

"A little, yeah."

"I will endeavor to be more discreet."

Fortunately, she was done, and the other ensign, Laura Gilbert – she introduced herself in a clear voice – took the stage. She wasn't bad…but she didn't really look like a teenager, either.

"Please tell me I was at least as good as she was?" I asked Data, when she was finished.

"I'd cast you," Ed said from his seat behind my tutor. "She was good, but no way is she believable as thirteen-year-old Anne, in the beginning of the play. She'd be a good Margot, though."

By ten o'clock, I'd been given the part of Anne, and Ensign Gilbert had been cast as Margot. I was oddly relieved when Ed was cast as my father, Otto Frank, rather than Data. "Zoe, Ed, you two have amazing father-daughter chemistry," she'd told us, and I had to agree. 

Data was given the smaller role of Mr. Dussel, the dentist, and it seemed to really fit him, while Lt. Barclay and a woman in Science blues were cast as the Van Daans. The final member of the core cast a college student doing a "semester in space" in one of the science labs. He would be Peter to my Anne, and his name was Theo. Mrs. Frank, to no one's surprise, was Dr. Crusher herself.

The cast was asked to stick around for a few minutes to discuss rehearsal schedules, but we were released by ten-thirty. Ed and Dr. Crusher were doing the 'get to know you better' chat, and I heard them discuss moving their conversation to Ten-Forward, while Theo and I merely agreed to meet for lunch the next day.

"Zoe, if you do not mind waiting a moment, I will escort you back to your quarters," Data said, coming to stand next to me, as I was finishing my talk with Theo. So far, I only knew that he'd joined the ship when we were still at Spacedock, and he was nineteen, and a sophomore at MIT, on Earth.

"You don't have to do that," I said. I'd just realized that I was the only non-adult, if not the only teenager, in the cast, but I really didn't want anyone focusing on that bit of information.

"I do not mind," he said. I would have protested further, but something in his tone implied that he wanted to speak with me.

"Okay," I said. "Sure." So I hung out while he spoke with the doctor for a few minutes, and then we left together. Outside the auditorium, I said, "You know, I'm not grounded any more. Mom wouldn't have cared if I went home alone, and I know where I'm going now."

"I did not mean to imply otherwise," Data said. "I did wish to speak with you about your audition this evening."

"Data, it was a cold reading. If you're going to pick apart my interpretation, could it wait until I've actually started working on the character?" He could be incredibly critical when not reminded to be kind.

"I have no plan to 'pick apart' your reading. You were quite believable. I was merely curious about the resume you sent to Dr. Crusher."

"Oh?"

"My impression was that you had performed only small roles in local productions in your hometown on Centaurus."

"Oh. That."

"Was I mistaken?"

"Shouldn't you know? I mean, haven't you investigated every detail of my life and committed it to memory?"

"Not _every_ detail, no," he said with the merest hint of snark. We'd definitely been rubbing off on each other. "With the people I consider friends," he explained, then, in his more usual tone, "I find it preferable to get to know them at a slower pace. More… organically." He sounded almost sheepish on the last word, as if he expected to be admonished for using it.

I didn't call him on it, of course, only smiled, and touched his arm, which caused us both to freeze in place for a moment, and him to look at where my hand had made contact. "Sorry," I said, pulling my hand back, suddenly conscious – too conscious – of the fact that I'd touched him. Casual contact had been a fairly usual thing with him forever, so I wasn't sure why I was suddenly more aware of it. Of _him._ _Or rather, I knew why I was more aware, but not why touching him was suddenly awkward._ "I'll send you a copy of my resume if you want."

"If you do not mind, I would appreciate it," he said.

"If I minded, I wouldn't have offered," I said, and then I realized it could have sounded snappish, and realized further that I was feeling irritated with him because I was aware of him as acutely masculine. Still, I counted to ten in my head before I asked, "Do you have any specific plans between now and midnight?"

"I do not, why?"

"Could we do our tea-thing, and talk? We haven't really, not since the night after…everything. I mean, we talk in class, and stuff, but…"

"Zoe." My name on his lips was always enough to stop me cold.

"Yes?"

"I, too, have missed our tea ritual."

I laughed softly. "When I used that word, you said it wasn't a ritual yet."

"Apparently, I was wrong."

He held out his arm, and I looped mine through it, laughing. "Lead on, then, kind sir," I said in my best fake-English accent. "Ritual tea awaits."

**(=A=)**

While Data was replicating tea (lemon-mint, with rosemary-laced sugar cookies on the side at my request), he directed me to use his console to let my mother know where I was (I also told her I might be late, just in case) and then to retrieve my theatrical resume and save a copy to his account. As I sat down in his chair, I asked, "Are you sure I won't mess anything up?"

"You cannot," he assured me.

"Okay," I said. After a moment, I added, "You have mail."

"The tea is ready," he said. I looked up at him from behind his desk and for a split second I felt like I was experiencing déjà vu, or whatever the equivalent of déjà vu that means you're seeing the future is called, because I swear it felt like I'd looked at him from that angle a thousand times, and suddenly I was staring at him with new eyes. He must've noticed me staring, because he asked, "Zoe? Are you alright?"

I shook my head to clear it, and the odd feeling was gone. "Yeah, sorry." If I moved away from his chair with unusual haste, he didn't mention it, and once I was settled on the couch with my shoes kicked off and my hands wrapped around a mug of fragrant tea, I was completely relaxed. "Is it utterly weird," I asked, "that this spot is the place on this ship that I feel most at home?"

"I do not know if it is weird or not," he said softly, "but I will accept your statement as a compliment." He waited a beat then prompted gently, "Was there something specific you wished to speak to me about, when you suggested tea?"

I could feel myself blushing, because I'd been just watching him again. "Oh. Yeah. It's a little awkward."

"We have dealt with awkward subjects before."

"True enough. It's just… we talked about Doctor Soong, but we never really talked about what happened with your bro – with Lore. And… I don't know… when you insisted upon walking me home, it kind of made me think maybe you think it was your fault."

"Is it not? If I had prevented you from leaving that morning, you would not have followed him."

"But I followed him because I thought he was you."

"If we had talked through your concerns about my response to my father's death," he said diplomatically avoiding the use of the word 'tantrum' in regard to my behavior, "you would have had no reason to do so."

"Yeah I would."

"How so?"

I shrugged. "You being on the starbase without stopping to say hello to us would have been uncharacteristic behavior. You heading to a bar like that would have been decidedly we - _unusual_. And anyway, you're not my parent or guardian, you're my tutor – my _friend_ \- you are not responsible for me making stupid choices." I watched him process those statements, and then I added, "Besides… he knew me. He knew my name, and believed I was somehow important to you."

"I am aware of that." Anyone else would have laced those words with anguish. Data, of course, did not.

"How did he know that?"

"I am uncertain. I believe he must have copied my memory engrams after he de-activated me."

"You didn't think of that before he showed up on the starbase?"

"I regret that I did not."

"And that's why you feel at fault?"

His answer was simple: "Yes."

I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Part of me wanted to just fling myself into his arms, and part of me knew I probably shouldn't. I set down my tea cup, and reached for his hand, clasping it in much the same way he'd clasped mine one night after I'd had a nightmare. We sat in silence for several minutes, and in that time, I couldn't help but wonder again if his kisses would feel the same way Lore's had, but I shook myself out of the thought, and withdrew my hand.

"I should go," I said. "Thanks for the tea, and the talk. If I promise to stop chasing after doppelgangers of the people I care about, will you promise not to blame yourself for everything that happens if I do?"

"I will try," he agreed amiably enough.

"Stellar," I said, forcing a lighter mood. I slid my feet back into my shoes, and left his quarters, but I paused at the door. "Hey Data?"

"Yes?"

"You know how you told me to make sure I had a password set on my padd?"

"I remember the conversation, of course, but…"

I cut him off. "Brain the size of a planet and you don't have a password on your own memories?"

The look on his face as the door slid shut between us was priceless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Diary of Anne Frank" (the play, not the original book) was written by Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett, and originally produced on Broadway in 1955. It was turned into a movie in 1959. Zoe's audition piece is from Act I, Scene 2. (Zoe's last comment to Data, is, of course, a riff on a line from "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.")


	36. Legacies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a new boy in Zoe's life, but she and Theo are just friends (aren't they?). Meanwhile, she shares a few serious conversations, one with Wesley Crusher, and one with Data, after Ishara Yar comes to visit.

**Stardate 44152.91**

**(Saturday, February 25th, 19:30 hours, ship's time)**

"Sorry I'm late, kiddo," my mother said as she dropped a kiss on the top of my head, and fell into the open chair at our table. I was having dinner with Ed and Theo in order for all of us to get to know each other, and we'd invited my mother to join us, so she could see who I was hanging out with these days.

"Mom, meet my new father and boyfriend," I teased, referring to the fact that Ed had been cast as my father in the shipboard play _The Diary of Anne Frank_.

"Excuse me?" my mother asked in her best mom-voice.

"Sorry," I said. "Professor Benoit – Ed – this is my mother, Lt. Commander Emily Harris. Mom, this is Ed. He's our lit teacher this year, and he's been cast as my father in _Anne._ " I waited for them to exchange greetings, then added, "And this is Theo, whose last name I still haven't learned. He's playing Peter."

"Nechayev," he supplied. "I'm here from MIT for my semester in space, Commander Harris."

"Emily, please," my mother told him.

"Wait!" A connection had just been made inside my head. "Nechayev like _Admiral_ Nechayev? You're Starfleet royalty."

Theo blushed faintly and ducked his head. "I'm not, actually, but my aunt is. Admiral Nechayev - she's my aunt," he told us. "Please don't let it get around. People will think I only got this spot here because of her."

I shrugged. "I've been cast in community theater stuff all my life because of who my father is. Why should it matter? A famous name may get you in the door, but it's you who keeps you in the room." It was a phrase I'd heard often enough; maybe one day I'd start to believe it.

"It shouldn't," he said. "My grades are excellent, and I worked my ass – excuse me – off to get here, but…"

"But people will still talk," Ed said, finishing the thought.

"Something like that," Theo agreed.

"Ah," my mother said, then repeated, "It's nice to meet you both. Have you all ordered?"

I shook my head. "We were waiting for you." Guinan came over, then, and we chatted for a little bit before she took our orders. Across the room, I noticed Wesley and some blond boy I didn't know getting into some kind of kerfuffle over ice cream (I think) and I asked her. "Who's Wes's new friend?"

Guinan followed the direction of my gaze. "That," she said, "is Jono. He's from the Telarian ship we ran into the other day." She pronounced it differently than Josh had, and I wondered if that was significant.

"I thought the rest of the kids were sent home?" I asked.

My mother gave me a look that seemed to imply I had more information than I should, but only said, "Jono is human by birth."

"Oh."

"The Telarian culture is fairly dismissive of women, Zoe," my mother added after Guinan left our table. "So if you're thinking about introducing yourself..."

"What, and skip out on the three of you? Never!" I said, and then I changed the subject, "Theo what's MIT like…  it's in…Boston, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said. "In the old city. It's nice. Challenging, but there's this sense of history. Have you started looking at colleges yet, Zoe?"

"Our Zoe's going to the Martian," my mother said. "She's been planning it for years."

"Actually…" I said, knowing this was a tough subject, but recognizing that my mother wouldn't freak out in front of people. "I've been thinking I should consider other options."

"The Academy?" Mom asked. I could see a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

It was a glimmer I was about to extinguish. "Oh, god, no." I said. "Sorry, Mom. That will never change. Actually, I'm leaning toward something a little more academic. Maybe even Ivy League. I mean, I love music and all, but… I don't want to be a one-note person."

"Zoe, I've only known you for a bit over a month, and I can assure you, you will never be one-note," Ed said.

Our food came, and the four of us chatted about the play, and Boston, and Ed's decision to spend a semester on a starship, as well. When we were finished eating, Theo invited me to go for a walk to the ship's art gallery, and I accepted, but Mom and Ed stayed to have coffee and after-dinner drinks.

Outside Ten-Forward, I stopped Theo. "You didn't have to do that…" I said. "Invite me on a walk. I could see Mom and Ed getting interested in each other."

He laughed. "It really wasn't for them," he said. "It was for us. You know we have to – I mean Anne and Peter have to…" he trailed off, a slight blush coloring his face.

"Kiss," I said for him. "We have to kiss on stage; I know. Dr. Crusher said we were going to start running that scene next week. She wants us really comfortable with each other."

He nodded, "Exactly. And I thought if we hung out alone…"

I looked at him, then. Really looked at him. Theo was taller than me by a few inches, and had dark brown hair and green eyes. I'd seen pictures of his aunt, Admiral Nechayev, and now that I knew they were related, I could see her features on him. "Do you even like art?" I asked.

"Actually," he confessed, "I prefer fishing. I just couldn't think of where else to take you."

I laughed at that. "Well, there are fishing programs on the holodeck, but at this hour on a Saturday night finding one free won't be easy. There's also an aquatics lab, and there's a koi pond in the arboretum. You can't fish, sadly, but you can have the replicator give you fish food, and they'll chase the pellets."

"The koi pond sounds like the best option," he said. "Lead on."

The arboretum was set up to mimic a diurnal schedule, and when we arrived synthesized twilight had settled over the pond. "Maybe we should have taken our chances with the holodeck," I said. "I mean, right now this is screaming 'make out spot.'"

He chuckled, "You make an excellent point. But I don't mind, if you don't."

I shook my head. "Nope." We sat on the grass near the pond and watched the fish nibble the pellets we'd replicated. "So what's your story, Theo Nechayev," I asked, only flirting a little, and not really meaning it. I wasn't entirely over T'vek, and ever since February there'd been a certain android haunting my dreams with his violin and his general kindness.

"You pretty much heard it at dinner. Starfleet family, had to rebel. I'm a sophomore at MIT, and my program is an interdisciplinary one involving humanities and engineering. I'm torn though, because I really want to apply for the society, technology, and theatre program, but working in the arts is so risky."

"It can be," I agreed, thinking about times my father had lost money on shows that didn't work, or when my uncle Zane had cancelled his band's tour after a system-wide virus made travel impossible. "But isn't it worth it. It's always seemed like it to my family."

"Right, because _you're_ entertainment royalty," he teased. "Your turn, Zoe. How long have you lived on the _Enterprise_?" he asked.

"Less than a year," I said. "Mom's been here since Captain Picard took command, but I didn't join her until just before the school year started. I spent most of my childhood either living at my grandmother's farm on Centaurus, or tagging along with my father when he did tours, or worked for off-world orchestras or theatres. Does your aunt mind that you're not at the Academy?"

He shook his head, "Not anymore. My parents were actually the ones who didn't approve, but… I'm not the dress-in-uniforms-and-salute-people type."

"I'm not either," I said. "Theo, I think we're going to get along just fine."

We both laughed, and then we continued the conversation. I learned he had an on-again, off-again (currently in the latter phase) girlfriend back home, and I told him that Tev had been the first boy I'd been serious about, but that we'd officially broken up about a month after he and his family had been PCSd to the _Berlin_.

By the end of the evening, we were definitely more friends than just cast-mates. Theo had flirted a little, just as I had, but it wasn't really meant, just friendly.

**(=A=)**

"Okay, Zoe, who's the boy?" Dana asked on our way to our math tutorial the following Monday.

"What boy?" I asked. "There is no boy."

"Josh and I saw you at the koi pond with someone who was definitely of the male persuasion," my friend said. "Saturday night, around twenty-one hundred hours."

"Oh. That wasn't a boy, exactly. That was Theo."

"Theo?"

"He's here doing a semester in space… from MIT."

"Since when do you hang out with science-y types?"

"Ninety percent of the people on this ship are 'science-y types.'" I pointed out. "He plays Peter… in the play. We thought we should get to know each other."

"Oh?"

"Well… we have a couple of scenes that are…"

"Intimate?" she said it in a voice that left nothing to the imagination.

"Not _that_ intimate," I protested, blushing. "There's a kiss, is all. And I shouldn't be telling you this, because I want you to come see the play."

Dana grinned. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"How's Josh doing?" I asked. "I mean, he wanted the part of Peter."

"He's okay," she said. "Actually I think he's a little relieved. He was afraid kissing you would be weird."

It was my turn to grin. "It would have been like kissing my brother, if I had a brother."

"That's pretty much what Josh said," Dana shared, and then she asked, "So, do we get to meet him?"

"Who? Theo? Go visit the science labs. He'll be around, I suppose."

"Zoe!" My friend was obviously frustrated with me.

"Look, I barely know him. He and Ed – Professor Benoit – had dinner with my mother and me the other night, and then we left them alone and went for a walk. We are not dating. We are not canoodling. We're just… well, we were just cast-mates. I guess we've sort of become friends, but there is no 'there' there."

Dana was staring at me as if I'd gone slightly crazy. Then she just shook her head (her blonde ponytail bounced as she did so), and smiled, and said, "Sure, Zoe, whatever you say."

I rolled my eyes at her, "Can we just go to class now?" I asked, and I walked through the door where Data and our classmates were waiting. "Morning," I said brightly. "Lovely day for a math tutorial, don't you think?"

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44166.22**

**(Thursday, March 2, 16:05 hours, ship's time)**

"Good lesson today, Zoe," Seth said as he packed up his cello. As usual, we'd met in one of the smaller observation lounges. "The theory lessons you're doing with Commander Data are really improving your technique. Soon you won't need me."

"Promise?" I asked, only half kidding. But he had been trying to be less creepy, and he really wasn't a bad teacher. "Sorry… the snark is automatic sometimes."

He chuckled. "It's okay. I kind of deserved it."

"Yeah," I agreed. "You kind of did. So, I'll see you next week?"

"Same time, same place," he said, and then he slung his gig bag over his shoulder and sauntered out.

I stayed in the lounge a bit longer. I didn't have any place to be for an hour, and I was still working on a tricky passage in one of the quartet pieces Data had chosen, and something about playing with a view of the stars made everything sound better, though, of course, I was never going to admit that to my mother.

I played the passage a couple of times, trying to hear the other instruments in my head as I did so, but eventually I realized there was someone else in the room with me. I turned to see who it was and apologize for monopolizing the space. "Wesley?" I asked. "How long have you been sitting there?"

His voice was softer than I'd ever heard him speak. "I don't know. A while. You don't have to stop." He hesitated, then said. "You're really good, Zoe."

"You think?" I asked. I knew I didn't suck, but I was still really bad at accepting compliments.

"I think," he said, with just a touch of humor. "There's a piece of music my mother used to sing when I was little. Something about dancing in the moonlight."

His mother – Dr. Crusher – had been missing for more than a day, having disappeared almost immediately after one of Wes's experiments. He'd managed, with help, to find her, but he'd been moody ever since. "How's she doing?" I asked.

"Fine," he said. "Physically. Things are weird between us. Like she doesn't know quite what I am anymore." There was real pain in his words, something I wasn't accustomed to hearing from him.

"I think that's kind of normal when a child outgrows their parent," I said. It was sort of the same when a student outgrew their teacher, and not the same at all, both at once.

"Yeah," he said. "Do you know the piece?"

I thought about it. "Moonlight and dancing… Hmm. Debussy composed music for a French poem called _Clair de Lune_ ," I said, and hummed it. "Is that what you mean?"

His mood seemed to brighten. "That's it," he said. "Can you play it?"

I nodded, but realized he might not be able to see the gesture in the dim light. "Yeah, I can." It really wasn't a long piece, and it really wasn't that difficult, but I bobbled a bit at the beginning. I wasn't accustomed to doing spontaneous solo acts for my friends. "Sorry, it wasn't perfect," I said, after I finished.

"No, Zoe, it was… it was absolutely perfect."

I began packing my cello, after that, but once it was stowed in my gig bag, and my chair was returned to the small table where it belonged, I moved to perch on the arm of the couch where Wes was sitting. I'd never seen him look so unsure before. "I have some time before I have to be home, if you want to talk?"

"Did you meet the Traveler, when he was here?"

I could tell he was making the word into a title, but I really wasn't sure what he was talking about. "The Traveler?"

"He's from Tau Alpha C," Wes explained. "He has these …abilities… that go beyond normal human stuff. I think he kind of bends time and space, actually." He must've seen my skeptical expression because he said, "I know it sounds really weird, but I've seen him do it, and I can _almost_ see how, and then in the next second, I'm as clueless as anyone else."

I laughed softly. "You're eighteen. You're supposed to be clueless half the time."

"When did _you_ become so wise?" he asked, with just a hint of the condescension I was used to hearing from him.

"When did _you_ ever need my advice?" I shot back. "Aside from when it comes to earring selections for your girlfriend, I mean."

His eyes met mine, and for a moment his face reflected utter agony, but then in the next moment, he was just Wes. "Keep a secret?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

"I'm being serious, Zoe."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Tell me what you want to tell me, and I might even trade you like for like."

"I'm supposed to start at the Academy this fall, but more and more, I'm not sure I want to go," he confessed.

"Mr. Starfleet isn't sure he wants to go to the Academy?" I asked, shocked.

"Sometimes, I feel like there's all this pressure. What if I fail? What if I can't compete? What if everyone there hates me as much as you do?"

"Heeey," I said. "I thought we established _months_ ago that I do _not_ hate you." I slid off the arm of the couch, and sat directly next to him, turning to face him in much the same way I often did when I was sitting on Data's couch. "I thought we were even sort of friends, and stuff."

"Are we?" he asked.

"Totally," I said. "Don't repeat this, but, I'm pretty sure we're actually more alike than either one of us wants to admit. I mean…we're both pretty ambitious, we're both only children, we're both usually at the top of our class with very little effort. I'm not quite as limited in my focus as you are," I said, putting a little bit of humor in the last part of my speech. "And I have _way_ better taste in music and fashion…"

He cracked a smile. "Yeah, okay, I get that." He hesitated, "But _you_ don't have to live up to the ghost of your own father," he said. "Follow in his footsteps, take up his legacy."

"Well, my father's not a ghost," I agreed. "But you think I don't have pressure? I grew up with everyone – including me -  expecting I would go to the Martian School of Music and the Arts, just like Dad. I was thrown into music and dance and theater classes pretty much from the time I could walk. Fortunately, I _like_ all that stuff – I even _thrive_ on it, but then I got dragged to this ship, where everyone's all science-y and smart… and _nice._ "

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Not exactly," I said. "Not really bad, just… kind of dull. But the thing is, the longer I'm here, the more I feel like maybe I need to change my plan."

" _You're_ not considering the Academy are you?" he asked, as if he were concerned I actually might be.

I laughed out loud. "Me? Never. Please! Why do people keep thinking that? I just meant, I might be looking at schools that have a broader curriculum."

"Oh," he said. "That makes sense."

"Of course, I have way more time to figure it out than you do."

"Rub it in, why don't you?" But he said it with more than a little bit of humor.

"Oh, hush, you." The schedule alert on my padd sounded. "That's my exit cue," I said. "Gotta get home and have dinner with Mom, then squeeze in an hour of homework before quartet rehearsal."

"I should get home, too," Wes said.

I stood up, and slid my arms into the backpack straps on my gig bag. I didn't usually carry my cello that way, but the corridors got kind of busy during shift changes, and there was about to be one. "Tell your mom I said hello," I said.

"I will." Wes stood up, as well, but instead of coming toward me, and heading to the doors, he went to the viewport. It was probably just the starlight beyond the glass-steel window and the dim light in the room, but he seemed to… phase out… for a moment, and when he phased back in, he looked like an older, more tired version of himself.

"Tell Data you've chosen him," older Wesley said. "He needs to know."

" _What_ are you talking about?" I asked, not sure if he were messing with me or if I should be worried. "I mean, seriously, what the actual hell, Wes?"

But there was that weird light-thing again, and then he was just Wes, just like always. "Tell Data you should play that piece for quartet," he said, as if he were repeating it. " _Clair de Lune_."

"Um, yeah, I'll do that," I said. And then I left.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44215.2**

**(20 March 2367, 13:00 hours, ship's time)**

For the next several weeks my days were a mixture of school, music lessons, quartet rehearsals, play rehearsals, homework, gardening with this really awesome Asian woman named Keiko…wash, rinse, repeat.

Ray Barnett drifted away from our group, though we still met to use my night surfing program from time to time, and Theo and I grew closer. We weren't exactly dating – there was no _there_ there - but we weren't exactly 'just friends,' either, and when we did have to do that kiss in rehearsals it wasn't weird or uncomfortable, and it _definitely_ wasn't like kissing my brother.

I didn't tell him that the last person who'd kissed me was Data's evil twin. He didn't mention the string of girls – female ensigns as well as the girl from back home – whose messages constantly pinged his padd. If we necked a little when we met at the koi pond to run lines, or ignored the rods and reels in the fishing program in favor of making out, we both knew it wasn't serious. We were teenagers, we were spending a lot of time together, and he was a pretty good kisser.

When we were ten days away from Tantalus Quartet's concert at Cochrane's World, (and three or so weeks from our first performance of the play) Data was called out of our math tutorial early. He and Wes had both been pretty subdued that morning, and when we pushed Wesley, he told us that the planet we were orbiting, Turkana IV, was the home world of the _Enterprise'_ s first security chief, a woman named Tasha Yar, and that she and Data had been close.

Wes didn't give us much more information than that, although he caught me later, and asked if I'd have lunch with him. I agreed, and we found ourselves at a table in Ten-Forward with class notes open on our padds – I was so busy with music and theater that I needed a little help with our math tutorial – and a plate of brownies between us.

He caught me staring at Data, who was across the room, sharing a table with some woman I didn't recognize. "That's Ishara," Wes told me. "She's Tasha's sister."

"The same Tasha you told me about? The one who died?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Exactly how close _were_ Data and Tasha?" I asked softly, aware that almost anyone else would have accused me of being jealous. "Were they just good friends, or was there dating?"

"I'm honestly not sure," Wes said. "I just know they were close. I mean… she was close to a lot of us. But Data was on her list to receive a personal message… after… and so was I."

"Oh," I said, realizing that my nosiness actually could hurt people. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up…"

He shook his head. "No. It's okay. If it matters," he offered. "I'm pretty sure she never had regular tea-dates with him."

I could feel myself blushing, and felt stupid for doing so. "You know about those?"

"Only because he asked my mother for ideas about what other tea blends you might like, and I happened to be there."

"Oh." I took a beat. "She wouldn't have had to, though. She would have been able to just meet him here for a drink." I stared at the man who was, more and more, my friend before he was my tutor, and the woman who was with him. She was pretty, I supposed, and she was flirting with him, but her smile never lit up her eyes, and her vibe was just kind of 'off.' "Have you met her, Ishara? Do you like her?"

"She's…" he hesitated, and answered, "Not really." He ate half a brownie and used the other half to gesture toward our padds. "Let's try to focus on math now?"

"Yeah, okay." But I couldn't stop myself from watching Data and Ishara, until I finally blurted, "There's something not right about her."

"How would you know?"

"I don't know. I just do."

**(=A=)**

Ishara Yar was only aboard the Enterprise for a few days, but during those few days, not only did Data skip rehearsal for the play, but he also canceled our math tutorial and suspended quartet rehearsal. I used the free evenings to make sure I stayed caught up on homework, but I was half-waiting for him to cancel my theory class as well.

The one time I actually met her was another evening in Ten-Forward. I was arriving with Theo just as she and Data were entering. I had no intention of stopping to say hello – in my teenaged brain, ignoring Data was punishing him not me – but Data saw us, and stopped.

"Zoe, Theo," Data said, "This is Ishara Yar. Ishara, Theo is a visiting student working in our science department, and Zoe is one of the civilian residents of the ship." He waited for us to exchange perfunctory greetings, then asked Theo and me, "Would you care to join us?"

It was the same polite offer he would have made to anyone, and I was this close to accepting when Ishara moved closer to him, squeezing his upper arm. "Oh, Data, I'm sure these children don't want to share their date with us," she said, and then she essentially dragged him into the lounge.

I couldn't help it; I stuck my tongue out at her back.

"Easy, Zoe. Your green streak is showing," Theo teased gently.

"Sorry," I said. But I really wasn't.

He gave me an appraising look. "You're jealous," he said softly, glancing from Data's disappearing form, back to me. "You like him."

"I'm not," I said. "I don't… " But even though Theo and I weren't dating, we weren't that far from it. "Maybe I have a crush, but it's… it's stupid, and it's nothing."

"I don't think it is, Zoe. The two of you… in rehearsal when you and Data have scenes together, you connect to him in a completely different way you do with the rest of us. Anyway, I've heard him talk about you when he's in the science labs. Whatever you feel, or don't, you should know his friendship for you is solid." Theo watched my face for a long moment. "It's kind of interesting," he said, "that Data introduced me as a student, but you as a resident of the ship."

"I'm not exactly the scholarly type," I joked. "He, of all people, would know that." Theo gave me a look that clearly meant he knew I wasn't being truthful. "Okay," I said. "I thought… I thought he was just my friend, I thought I just liked being around him because when we're playing music, but he's gone out of his way for me more than once, and sometimes when I look at him… lately things have been getting a bit… confusing."

Theo was silent, apparently thinking over my words, for several heartbeats. "Wanna do something truly vindictive?" he asked, though he said it with a teasing lilt in his voice.

"Like?"

"Go in there, have an amazing dinner, and be very visible about having a wonderful time?"

I felt a slow smile spreading across my face. "Theo Nechayev, I love the way you think," I said.

Over chicken shawarma, tabbouleh, and hummus with warm pita, Theo started telling me stories about growing up with his Aunt Alynna, and how he chose MIT. He asked me about music, and what it was like having a celebrity for a father, and it turned out that we'd had similar experiences dealing with our famous family members. He was either a much better actor than I'd given him credit for, or just a truly nice guy, and he kept me laughing and distracted until long after Data and Ishara had left the lounge.

**(=A=)**

By Friday night, Ishara had been gone for several hours, but I was still feeling agitated. More than anything I wanted to ring Data's door-chime and invite myself in for tea, but I stopped myself from doing so. Instead, I sent a note that was maybe a little passive aggressive, asking if he was still dealing with his mission or if we were having my scheduled music theory lesson.

He was either oblivious to my tone, or chose to overlook it, because I got a perfectly gracious reply that our Saturday Session was still on his schedule, "…if you are amenable," which I was.

I spent the rest of the evening playing my cello, but I wasn't practicing anything for Seth or anything for the quartet. Instead, I downloaded the sheet music for _Clair de Lune_ and worked on making it really good.

Saturday morning, I showed up at Data's quarters for music theory still feeling at odds, but he was back in the subdued mood I'd noticed a week earlier, and all I could think was that I wanted to make it better. "Hi," I said.

"Hi," he repeated, though the word never would sound right coming from his mouth.

There was no series of paintings of Ishara – or her sister – filling his living quarters, and I wasn't sure if that was good or bad. "I've missed you this week," I said, rather than ask him how he was. "I've been kind of spoiled by commanding so much of your attention, and when you were busy, I kind of… it was weird."

"You were angry," he said, in a way that made me wonder if Wes or Theo had ratted me out.

"No," I said. "I was jealous." I took a breath. "And I didn't like that woman." His eyes widened and his eyebrows arched slightly upwards, and then his expression was placid again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Are you okay? You seem a little quieter than usual."

"It would seem that your instinct was accurate," he said. "Ishara Yar was not the person we initially perceived her to be."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"That will not be necessary. I believe we should review last week's notes before you unpack your cello." He headed for the table where we always sat.

"Actually," I said. "I was wondering if we could do the hands-on part first today. I've been working on a solo piece, and I'd… I'd really like to play it for you." I don't know why I was suddenly shy about it.

"That would be acceptable."

Data and I had played music together many times, but except for when we'd been shopping for my new cello, I'd never really played _for_ him, and even the piece I'd played at Cooper's store hadn't really been meant specifically for his ears.  That day, however, my performance was _absolutely_ meant for him. I took my usual chair, tightened my bow, and played Debussy's _Clair de Lune_ the way I heard it in my head. When I was done, I sat still, and waited, willing him to somehow comprehend the feelings it was meant to express, even if I couldn't name them myself.

"Thank you, Zoe," he said, meeting my eyes. Something about his demeanor seemed to shift. "Would you object to a shared activity other than our usual music theory session, today?"

I shook my head. "No, of course not. What did you have in mind?"

"I would like to share our tea ritual, if you do not mind, and… I would like to talk to you about a friend of mine, Ishara's sister. I would like to talk to you about a woman named Tasha Yar."  

I had the distinct impression that this discussion wasn't going to be quite as innocent as our usual topics, and I was touched and honored that Data had chosen me to open up to. Not sure how to respond, I simply set my cello on its side and relocated to my usual corner of his couch while my friend (this was unquestionably a friend thing) replicated a pot of peppermint tea and brought it to the coffee table – the one I'd chosen for him – on a tray with cups and spoons and a pot of honey.

He sat down in his usual spot, and began to talk. "Tasha and I never spent a significant quantity of time alone together, but I considered our friendship a close one. We were often partnered on missions, and working with her was often easier for me than working with others among my colleagues. Like you, Zoe, she never expected me to be anything other than what I am."

If I felt a little bit weird being likened to a woman I'd never met, I brushed the weirdness aside. "Well, what you are is pretty awesome," I observed. More gently, I added, "You must miss her."

"She and Geordi were my first friends on the _Enterprise_. In many ways, they were my first friends at all, but Tasha and I shared a similarity in that both of us were essentially orphans."

I listened as he continued to talk - to babble really – about the woman whose sister he'd just spent a week with. Eventually the information dump he felt the need to share slowed and I was able to ask questions again. "So when you met Ishara," I began, "you realized there was another commonality. You both had sib-" I cut myself off as a realization struck me. "Oh, my god. You were lovers."

I could feel him withdrawing. I wondered if he was aware that he was doing it, even as he was stating, "It would not be appropriate to discuss that."

"Because I'm your student, or because I'm sixteen?" I asked. "Because if it's the former, we're not in class right now. You very specifically asked me if we could _not_ be in class this morning. And if it's my age… it seems kind of hypocritical of you to have a problem with that now, when you've trusted me with much deeper – _darker –_ secrets." We both knew I was referring to his admission, months before, that he'd _wanted_ to kill Kivas Fajo.

"I do not believe we were _lovers_. Our encounter was both an aberration, and extremely brief, however…"

Impulsively, I reached out to cover his hand with mine. "I don't think it matters if it was an hour or a lifetime," I said. "A connection is a connection. I mean, T'vek and I dated for five months, and were only lovers for about six weeks, but that doesn't make it any less…" I stopped, that time, because his eyebrows had risen almost into his hairline. "Data?"

"I had not realized your relationship with the Mairaj boy was… intimate." His words came softly, as if he were seeing in me in a whole new light. Maybe he was. I know I was seeing _him_ with new eyes.

"I kind of assumed you knew," I said. "I mean, when Mom was recovering and you were basically camped out in our living room… I thought you… knew."

"I did not."

"Apparently." I took a healthy swig of tea. "I didn't mean to embarrass you." I didn't give him the chance to tell me that he couldn't be embarrassed. Technically, Data, _our_ relationship is intimate. It's just not… it's just not sexual. We talk about things it would never have occurred to me to discuss with Tev."

I saw him process my statement, his eyes doing their birdlike flicker. "You are correct," he said after a bit. "Thank you, Zoe."

I knew he meant for listening, and not for the paradigm-shift we were both experiencing.

"Do you think we could play music together without it being an actual lesson, today?"

"May I ask why?"

"Because I'd really like to try _Clair de Lune_ as a duet. I think we'd play it well together." Anyone else would have assumed I was flirting, and maybe I was, a little, but if Data noticed, he didn't respond.

"That would be accept – " he stopped himself. "I would enjoy that."

I didn't question his use of the word _enjoy_. I think I just assumed he used it as a shortcut, a way of expressing that making music together was more than just a task, not that he was implying an emotional reaction.

Data fetched his violin, and we played the piece together twice, once just to get a feel for it, and the other to smooth out some issues with intonation (mine) and expression (his). The hours for my scheduled lesson were long over by then, and I didn't want to end our session, but I was tired and hungry.

"Do you wish to play it one more time?" Data asked.

"Actually, I think I'm played out," I said. "Not that today's session of 'Achieving Equilibrium through Music' wasn't incredibly satisfying, but right now, my soul's been fed enough and I really need lunch."

"If you would like," Data offered, surprising me, "We could share a meal here."

I tilted my head and peered at him through the curtain formed by my hair, which I'd left loose and down. "You're not sick of my company?"

"On the contrary, Zoe, I find your company most welcome." He hesitated for a fraction of a second. "I do not believe I am ready to be alone just yet."

I zipped my cello into its gig bag and set it against the wall, where the outer corner of his console met it. "Is that spinach and mushroom omelet you replicated for me in January too far from vegan for you to share one with me? The portions are sort of huge."

Data's answer was simply to replicate the meal, adding rosemary-seasoned roasted potatoes and the style of café mocha he knew I loved. Over lunch, we talked about the play, and his interpretation of Dussel, and whether or not I was comfortable working with Theo.

Our conversation eventually returned to the original subject. "I was surprised when you declined the invitation to join Ishara and me at dinner."

"She made it obvious she didn't want anyone else with you, and, as I said, I was jealous. I would have said something rude. Besides, you were both giving off date vibes. Did you really find her attractive, or were you just hoping she'd be more like Tasha?" I blushed as soon as I asked the question. "I'm sorry, that was too personal."

Data surprised me again. "Did we not agree that our friendship is an intimate one?" he asked rhetorically. "Your assessment is correct. I hoped that in 'rescuing' Ishara I would also be - in a sense - 'rescuing' Tasha."

I think I melted a little when he said it; it was just so sweet. And human.

By the time we were finished it was after fourteen hundred hours, and we both knew our time was up for the day.

At the door, before hoisting my cello, I wrapped my arms around Data in an impulsive hug. "Thank you," I said, "For trusting me, and for talking to me, and for listening. I'm so lucky to have you in my life."

It was a little melodramatic, I knew, but it was also _meant_ , and when he returned my embrace, with a lot less stiffness than had been in our earlier hugs, I smiled against his chest. _This feels so right_ , I thought, and then pushed the thought aside.

But he was returning my words, as well, thanking me for listening, and sharing my time with him.

Outside Data's door, I allowed myself to fantasize about going back in, telling him I'd forgotten something, and then kissing him, but it was just a fantasy. I shook my head to clear it, and went home, where I showered, finished an essay that was due for one class, did some reading for another, and then curled up on my bed with a novel and some really loud music.

When Mom came home from her duty shift, she knew something was different. "You okay, Zoe?" she asked.

But I wasn't ready to talk to her in any detail. "Actually," I said. "I'm better than okay."

She looked at me with one of those gushy-mom looks that only parents can ever pull off. The one with the soft focus and the mixture of remembered innocence and hardened awareness. "Glad to hear it, Zoificus," she said. "Do you want to go to dinner in Ten-Forward?"

"Actually," I said, mentally blasting myself for using that word so frequently. "I think I'd rather eat here tonight, and then, I was thinking maybe we could watch one of those sappy mother-daughter bonding vids."

My mother's grin broadened to match mine. "Sounds like a plan, kiddo," she said. "A really good plan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter spans the episodes "Suddenly Human," "Remember Me," and "Legacy." Yeah, that's a lot of ground to cover in one chapter. Not every episode has room for non-officer OCs to fit into. Zoe's version of Clair de Lune is the version by Debussy, though there's an older version by Faure, who, interestingly, also composed for the cello, though not that piece. Both versions are based on the same French poem. Look it up. The piece is usually played with piano accompaniment. The solo cello version can be found here: www DOT youtube DOT com FORWARD SLASH watch QUESTION MARK v=CcSvOwACOJI (obviously, replace capital letters with symbols and remove all spaces).


	37. Gagh Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoe and Data share a moment that could be considered intimate, Zoe and Theo get closer, and Zoe meets K'Ehleyr.

**Stardate 44236.61**

**(28 March 2367, 08:42 hours, ship's time)**

"I'm sorry, Zoe, but it would be inappropriate for me to allow you to travel to Cochrane's World with a man for an overnight visit. You'll have to see if the ship's itinerary will mesh with the Tantalus Quartet's tour at another planet."

"But Mom," I protested. "It's not just _any_ man; it's _Data._ You _know_ he would never hurt me, never allow me to _come_ to harm on his watch. And you were going to let me go when the ship was supposed to be in orbit."

The reality of Starfleet was that plans changed, sometimes on a dime – whatever that was. A month or so before, when Data had agreed to escort me to a concert by my favorite string quartet - one of my favorite musical groups of any kind - the _Enterprise_ had been scheduled to visit the planet where they were playing: Cochrane's World. Since then, there had been some back-tracking because of a static warp bubble experiment-gone-wrong, an extended stay at a real hellhole of a world called Turkana IV, and then a change of direction. The ship was headed toward Klingon space, where Captain Picard was expected to work some kind of diplomatic magic.

"A quick trip to the surface, even by shuttle, is one thing. A journey over a day, plus an overnight stay in a hotel is completely different."

"I don't see what you're so afraid of. Again, I remind you, Mother –" I only ever called her 'Mother' when she was being extremely difficult, "– that either way I'd be with Data. The same Data I spend hours alone with every Saturday morning, who chats with me over tea into the wee hours of the night at least once a week, who has done more for my musical prowess than all the teachers Dad's ever hired, including the one I'm ostensibly learning from." I softened my tone, realizing that I was beginning to sound more like a petulant child than a rational young (okay, very young) adult. "Data's done so much for me, and Gae-Lynn Jo, the violist, is a friend of Dad's, and she said we could workshop with them. This is a rare opportunity to give something back to him."

"Couldn't you just bake him a tray of your sector-famous brownies?" my mother teased gently, "Or draw him a picture."

"Oh, please," I said. "First of all, double chocolate espresso brownies would be utterly wasted on him. And second, I have about as much drawing ability as a Regullan blood-worm."

"I've heard worm-prints are quite trendy in some cultures," my mother quipped. I got my sense of humor from her, and we both knew it.

"Mom!"

For a moment, I thought she would cave, but then her expression hardened. "I'm sorry, Zoe. You'll have to come up with another option."

"Okay, how about this… you could come too. Bring Ed."

"Ed?"

I rolled my eyes. "You know perfectly well I mean Professor Benoit."

"When did you start calling all your teachers by their given names?"

"When you dragged me here, where 'learning is a collaborative effort between professional civilian educators, officer volunteers, and motivated students with a thirst for knowledge.'" I imitated the voiceover actor who had hosted the online brochure.

"I should _never_ have let you read the brochure for family-friendly starships," my mother observed.

I shrugged. "I should never have agreed to cut my hair short for this play, but we all make bad choices sometimes." In fact, I'd been offered a wig to make me look a bit more like Anne Frank, the character I was playing, but it was itchy, and it was only hair. "Ed likes you," I added.

"He is a refreshing conversationalist," my mother allowed.

"And kind of hot, for an old guy…"

"And so well read," Mom said, ignoring my addition. "I can see why you enjoy his class so much."

Sheepishly, I admitted, "That might have more to do with the fact that he's letting me do a paper on vampire imagery in classic literature."

"Aha!" she said, grinning. "He appealed to your dark side."

"Yeah," I said. "He kind of did"

"Don't you have his class this morning?"

I glanced at the time display on the entertainment console in our living area. "I have a little time," I said. "Nytan was going to stop by and walk with me."

As if on cue, our door-chime sounded.

"Get to class, daughter-of-mine," my mother said. "And stop trying to set me up with your teachers."

"Teacher, singular," I corrected. "Not all of them. Although, Ms. Spencer might be open to it…"

" _Zoe_ …"

I drained the mug of café au lait I'd been toying with, grabbed my padd, and headed for the door. "If I can come up with, say, a suitable chaperone for the overnight part of the trip, will you allow it?"

"I'll consider it," my mother hedged in that way that meant she would probably agree if I could actually figure something out.

"Awesome! Thanks, Mom!" I disappeared before she could change her mind, nearly knocking Nytan over in my haste. "Sorry," I said to the Rigellian boy who was our newest classmate. "There was a mother-daughter thing going on."

He grinned, "And you were using the 'flee before they can change their mind' tactic?"

"Exactly!" I said. "So, how's your paper coming along? Have you figured out a topic yet?"

He frowned. "No. Everything I've come up with is either boring, stupid, or overdone. Prof and I are going to brainstorm after class today." Professor Benoit was 'Ed' to me and a couple of my other friends, but 'Prof' to almost everyone else.

"I'm sure you'll come up with something," I said. "Ed's pretty good at helping you figure out what's already in your own brain."

"That's what I'm hoping. So, did you finish reading that Klingon poem? I'm not sure it all made sense."

"I'm absolutely sure it _didn't_ make sense," I said. "I'm also absolutely sure it couldn't make sense unless you were actually Klingon."

"Good point," Nytan said.

We finished the trek to our classroom in companionable silence.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44246.3**

**(31 March 2367, 21:35 hours, ship's time)**

"I know we're supposed to accept that all people have inherent dignity and worth," I grumbled to my mother over dinner in Ten-Forward on the day Data and I were _supposed_ to be attending the Tantalus Quartet's concert on Cochrane's World, "but some people make it really challenging."

My mother and our dinner companion - Edouard Benoit – exchanged amused glances. Then Mom asked, "Care to elaborate, daughter-of-mine?"

"Politicians," I said, and then expanded that to, " _Klingon_ politicians."

"Why so?" Ed asked, and I wasn't sure if he was truly curious or just baiting me.

"I'm _supposed_ to be on an awesome not-a-date with Data tonight," I said. "I'm _supposed_ to be listening to my favorite quartet play their last gig of the season, and then going to a workshop with them in the morning. Instead? I'm stuck here on the fringes of Klingon space while half the crew plays politics with the locals, and classes are 'celebrating Klingon culture' and - oh, god, is he eating _live worms?_ "

Both Mom and Ed turned to look in the direction where my gaze was riveted. "You don't have to watch, Zoe," my mother pointed out.

Ed, on the other hand, informed me that, "Commander Riker and Lieutenant Worf are eating _gagh_. It's not actually live worms."

"It isn't?"

"It's live _serpent_ worms."

"And the difference is?"

"Bigger. Plumper. Five times the protein."

"Ugh."

"No, that's something else entirely." That time, I knew, he was teasing me.

"I'm suddenly really glad none of us ordered vermicelli," I said.

Ed grinned at me. "You know, Zoe, most people your age will never meet a Klingon, let alone get a chance to experience their culture or try their delicacies."

"You are _not_ ordering any of that while I'm sitting here," I said.

"No," he agreed. "But let me tell you, when I was a reporter I covered stories inside the Empire – I was a stringer for FedNet for a while – and when you're staying somewhere on someone else's payroll, or trying to get a local official to give you the inside scoop on something, you eat whatever's offered to you… and you enjoy it."

"So you've eaten _gagh?_ "

"I have," he said.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Well," he allowed. "I've had worse."

My mother was silently watching our exchange, amusement coloring her expression.

"Worse than live serpent worms?" I asked

"Oh, yes," he said. "Have you ever heard of a Scottish dish called haggis?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Doomed," I said. "I am so doomed."

My mother interjected to tell me, "Only if you choose to be, Zoificus. Finish eating."

But I really wasn't hungry anymore anyway, so I just excused myself, and headed back to quarters. At the doors, I glanced back at Mom and Ed, and noticed their body language had changed to much more intimate stances, and a smile stretched across my face. I didn't know why, but I really liked them together.

Outside the turbolift, I ran into a child. Or rather the child ran into me. "Oof!"  His ridged forehead came in contact with my rib cage. "Watch out."

"Alexander, apologize," came the command from the woman I assumed to be his mother. Her voice was almost a purr, and her tone was firm, but not angry or mean.

The boy – Alexander – looked up at me, and I realized he was a Klingon boy, and that his eyes were blue. "Sorry for not looking," he said.

"Alexander…"

"Sorry for running into you," he amended.

"It's okay," I said, and then confessed, "I wasn't really watching where I was going either."

His mother caught up with him in two more long strides. "He is not accustomed to having this much space to run in," she said. "The embassy corridors are filled with sharp corners and heavy furniture."

"Embassy?" I asked rather stupidly. "Are you… are you Ambassador K'Ehleyr?"

She offered me a slight smile. "I am indeed," she said. "Your pronunciation is a little off though." She said her name for me and I repeated it. "Better," she said. "You have a good ear. Linguist?"

"Student," I said. "My mother's a cultural anthropologist. She dragged me here about a year ago. Oh. And also musician."

"You or your mother?"

"Both, technically, but for her it's just a hobby."

"I see."

"I'm keeping you," I said. "I'm sorry."

Again, she smiled. "You're not, truly. I'm meeting Worf and Commander Riker, and I won't mind a bit if my evening has to be somewhat abbreviated."

I grinned. "They're halfway through an order of _gagh,_ " I said. "No offense, but it didn't look terribly tasty."

"It's not," she agreed. "I think Klingons eat it to challenge each other. Giant twelve-year-olds with sharp weapons. What could possibly go wrong?" Her sarcasm was issued with an amused twinkle in her eyes.

I couldn't help but laugh at that, but it was only for a minute, because her son – Alexander – was tugging on her tunic hem and reminding her he was hungry. "You should go," I said. "Actually, I should go. It was nice meeting you Ambassador K'Ehleyr."

"It was nice meeting you as well… though, I didn't get your name."

"It's Zoe," I said. "Zoe Harris."

She sketched a bow. "It is good to make your acquaintance, Zoe Harris," she said.

She and her son moved toward Ten-Forward, and I started to step into the lift, then stopped. "Ambassador?" I said.

She also paused. "Yes?"

"You should take Alexander down to the aquatics lab when you have a chance. Meet the bat rays. It's all kinds of awesome."

"I'll do that," she said, and disappeared.

I went back home and had a comm-call with my father before curling up on my bed to read.

My mother, it should be noted, didn't come home until zero two hundred hours the next morning.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44247.89**

**(1 April 2367, 11:30 hours, ship's time)**

"Data, are you alright?" We had finished the theory portion of my Saturday Session, and were now playing together, just for fun. Oh, he'd wanted to work on some new music that he was considering playing as a gift to friends of his who had recently announced their engagement, but I'd begged for something with a little less purpose to it. Just for fun, and he'd agreed.

Except now he was curling and flexing the fingers of his left hand as if he were in some kind of discomfort or pain.

"I am fine, Zoe," he said.

"Your hand isn't," I observed.

"Ah," he said, placing his violin on his desk. "In my studies of the great violinists, I have found that tendonitis is a common malady among many of them. I have adjusted the servo-mechanisms and actuators in my wrist and hand in order to approximate the condition."

I set my cello on its side. "Wait, you're telling me you gave yourself tendonitis, just for kicks?"

"Repetitive motion injuries are a frequent aspect of the human condition," he answered.

"Well, yeah, but most people don't set out to get them intentionally."

"Have you forgotten, Zoe?" he asked, in the tone that passed for a teasing one, when we were alone together. "I am not most people." He sat down behind the desk and rested his left hand and forearm on it, palm up. He pressed into the skin there, and a panel popped open. "However, now that I have experienced the physical limitations of the condition, I do not believe maintaining my injured status will benefit me further."

I didn't answer him. I was too busy staring at his arm, at the flesh that had parted so seamlessly, and at the array of blinking lights I glimpsed inside. Part of me was fascinated. Part of me felt like I didn't belong there, as if I'd walked in on him naked. Part of me wanted to see more. "Um…" I began feeling incredibly stupid. It was one of those rare occasions when I had absolutely no idea of what to say.

"Zoe, are you alright?" Data was echoing my earlier question to him.

I blinked a few times, then shook my head. "I'm fine," I said, the words catching in my throat. "I'm sorry, I've just…you've never…"

He followed my gaze to his arm and the open access panel there. "Ah," he said. "You are uncomfortable with the knowledge that I am a machine. I am accustomed to such reactions."

"No," I said. "I know you're a machine. I've never not known that. I just… I don't know… Watching you tinker with bits of yourself seems inappropriately intimate, somehow."

His head-tilt came even as he was reaching for a tiny tool that had been on his desk. "I do not understand."

I gave voice to what had been running through my head a moment or so before. "I feel like seeing you…  like that…you know, exposed… is kind of like seeing you naked." I said. I hesitated for a moment before adding. "May I come closer?"

"Of course, Zoe." I couldn't read his tone at all, but he seemed faintly pleased by my curiosity.

I left my chair and circled around his desk to stand behind him. "This is the servo-mechanism I referred to earlier," he said, pointing to one of the components inside his forearm. "And this is the tension for the actuator." He tweaked things with the tool as he spoke to me, then curled and released his fingers again. "I have restored normal function," he stated, setting the tool aside.

I watched him close the panel, watched the skin of his arm seal itself as if there had never been a panel. Moving slightly to the side, I reached out to touch his arm, still resting on the desktop. Before making contact, I froze, and snatched my hand back. "I'm sorry," I said. "May I…?"

"Of course, Zoe," he said, but he swallowed reflexively after he said it, almost as if he were afraid of my reaction.

My right hand was gripping the back of his chair, so I was reaching with my left, and the beads of the bracelet he'd given me for my birthday clicked gently against the desk as my fingers made contact with his skin. It felt smooth, and alive, and ever-so-slightly cooler than my own skin, but only in the way different people always have differing body temperatures.

I let my fingers traverse the length of his forearm, until my palm was resting against his. My pulse was racing; I wondered if he could feel it. On impulse, I laced my fingers with his, and both felt and saw his fingers curl around my hand. A thought occurred to me. "When you do that, are you actually responding to me, or are you anticipating what you think I'll do and allowing me to move your fingers that way?"

"It is… a little bit of both," Data explained.

He turned his head, and we were suddenly face to face and really close together, our eyes locked. If I leaned forward just a fraction of an inch I could kiss him ( _I so wanted to kiss him.)_ and I almost did, but then his comm-badge chirped and the moment was gone, leaving my heart still jumping in my chest.

"Data here," he said, tapping the badge.

"Data, I'm sorry, I know you're off duty this morning, but… are you alone?" It was Commander Riker's voice on the other end of the channel.

"Zoe Harris is here with me for her theory lesson," he said. His tone was all business, but his golden eyes were still fixed on mine.

"Can you trust her discretion?"

"Yes, sir," Data responded. "As much as I would trust your own."

"Ambassador K'Ehleyr has been killed, Data. We need you on the bridge as soon as possible."

For the tiniest part of a second, I could feel the power in his fingers, in all of him, as he released my hand. It was as if he were giving a demonstration and pulling back into himself at the same time. "Understood, Commander," he said. "I am on my way.

I closed my eyes for a moment. I'd only run into the ambassador very briefly the night before, but she had seemed so vibrant, so _present_. When I opened them again, Data was shutting down his console, and pushing his chair back. I stepped out from behind his desk and began packing my cello.

"I must ask you not to repeat any of what you heard."

"I would never," I promised. I focused on end pins and zippers and stuff, working as quickly as I could. "Data… the Ambassador… you know she has a child, right?"

"I am aware." Data's answer was perfunctory, but he softened it with, "I believe the boy's name is Alexander."

"His father… it's Lieutenant Worf, isn't it?"

"Yes, but, how did you know that?"

"He's the only Klingon assigned to the _Enterprise_ , and why else would you bring a kid that young with you on a mission like this? Don't answer that. Just… I met the kid last night. He's got a little bit of a rebellious streak. Tell Worf that if he needs someone to hang out with… um… with Alexander… Tell him that I'll help out, if I'd be useful at all."

"I am certain he will appreciate the offer."

"And tell him I'm really sorry for his loss."

"I will do so."

I hoisted my cello and left Data's quarters. A split-second later, a black and gold blur left the room as well, moving past me down the corridor at a pace only an android could achieve, let alone maintain.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44250.94**

**(2 April 2367, 13:17 hours, ship's time)**

The aquatics lab was kept dark, except for a somewhat murky blue light, and silent, except for the low burbling of air pumps. The first time I'd been there, it had been with T'vek, and we'd shared our first kiss. I was there with a boy again that day, but it wasn't for romantic purposes. Instead, I was watching a very little boy kneeling at the bat ray tank splashing his small fingers in the water, and telling them his story.

"You left out the part where the awesome teenaged girl takes you to see the fish tanks," I teased lightly, by way of a greeting.

"She's only awesome if she doesn't tell my father where I am," he countered.

"Sorry," I said. "He's already on his way. But I'm pretty sure he understands that you needed to be someplace quiet, and you needed to be there with someone who wasn't directly involved in… anything."

"Five more minutes?" he asked.

"I can probably stall that long," I said. "You know, he's sad about your mother, too." I wasn't actually certain of that, but figured it was likely.

"I know," he said. "But his sad is full of growling."

"And yours isn't?"

He shook his head, and I caught the glimmer of tears on his cheeks. "Mine's much… wetter."

I managed not to laugh at his phrasing.

"Maybe Worf's sadness is wet on the inside," I suggested.

"Maybe," he agreed. I saw his body heave with a couple of deep breaths in and out, and then he turned to face me. "I think I can see him now," he said softly.

"Okay."

I left the room, passing Lt. Worf, who was entering as I was leaving. "You are Data's protégé," he observed.

"Some people call me that," I said.

"Thank you for spending time with my son."

I managed to smile into the face that really was made for growling. "I didn't mind. He's a cool little kid."

He seemed to want to say something, and for a moment, so did I, but all I did was brush by him, and back into the brightly lit and busy corridor.

"Zoe Harris," the Klingon lieutenant called.

I stopped and turned around in my tracks. "Sir?"

"You have acted with honor. It will _not_ be forgotten."

I nodded once then turned around and headed home, where I found an invitation to dinner with Theo. I was about to decline – I didn't want to be surrounded by people attempting to eat Klingon food – but he insisted, and we finally chose to replicate dinner in his quarters.

Midway through the meal, the image of Data's arm, and the access panel flashed through my head. "Do you ever," I asked him, "wish you could un-know something?"

To his credit, he didn't ask me to define or elaborate. "There've been things…" he said. "Do you need to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "Not yet. Maybe soon. What's for dessert?"

"Us," he said.

I laughed. "I can live with that."

We'd been sharing kisses all through the rehearsal process, at first so that we wouldn't be weird on stage, and later because we'd become friends, and we both knew it was just a mild flirtation. We shared his couch, and if our make-out session wasn't exactly steamy, it was… comforting, I guess.

Except that there was this little twinge inside me, telling me Theo wasn't the one I was supposed to be with. And when he pulled me close there was a part of me I wasn't ready to share, wishing I was being held in Data's arms.

We hadn't discussed sex, and he certainly wasn't pushing to go further than we had, but in my head I'd already decided: Theo was great as a friend, even as a date, but I didn't want to sleep with him, so when he offered, I was a bit surprised.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "I'm not… I can't."

He accepted my answer with grace, and walked be back to the quarters I shared with Mom. If I was thinking about Data when he kissed me goodnight, at least I was sure that Theo was fantasizing about someone as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter runs concurrently with the episode "Reunion," but doesn't change anything of the canon.


	38. Performance Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's almost time for the play, Zoe admits she might, possibly have a crush on Data, even as she's getting a little closer to Theo, and a special visitor arrives.

**Stardate 44298.86**

**(Thursday, 20 April 2367, 02:02 hours, ship's time)**

It was a week before opening night of _The Diary of Anne Frank_ , and I was dreaming:

_"Tell my brother I had the first taste." Lore's voice echoed through my dream, the tone darker and darker with each iteration. "See how much of a little girl you really aren't." Fingers curling and uncurling. Android parts strewn everywhere. And then I was in the 'secret annex' set for_ The Diary of Anne Frank _, except it wasn't really the set, but the actual place, from the pictures of the museum. But it wasn't the real people; it was our cast speaking the words from the script:_

_"Oh, I don't mean you have to be Orthodox . . . or believe in Heaven and Hell and Purgatory and things . . . I just mean some religion . . . it doesn't matter what. Just to believe in something! When I think of all that's out there . . . the trees . . . and flowers . . . and sea gulls . . . When I think of the dearness of you, Peter . . . and the goodness of the people we know . . . Mr. Kraler, Miep, Dirk, the vegetable man, all risking their lives for us every day . . . When I think of these good things, I'm not afraid anymore . . . I find myself, and God, and I . . . "_

_Theo-as-Peter answered me, "That's fine! But when I begin to think, I get mad! Look at us, hiding out for two years. Not able to move! Caught here like . . . waiting for them to come and get us . . . and all for what?"_

_And I responded with the words I'd memorized from this scene, "We're not the only people that've had to suffer. There've always been people that've had to . . . sometimes one race . . . sometimes another . . . and yet. "_

**_"_ ** _That doesn't make me feel any better!"_

_In my dream, I walked over to him, took his hands in mine, only they weren't Theo/Peter's hands any more, but Data's. "I know it's terrible, trying to have any faith . . . when people are doing such horrible . . . But you know what I sometimes think? I think the world may be going through a phase, the way I was with Mother. It'll pass, maybe not for hundreds of years, but someday . . . I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are really good at heart."_

_The voice that responded at that point was a mixture, a merging of Theo-as-Peter, and Data, and even Lore, "I want to see something now . . . not a thousand years from now!"_

_The scene kept playing in my head, I spoke my next line, but my voice was cracked and tired, "But, Peter, if you'd only look at it as part of a great pattern . . . that we're just a little minute in the life . . . Listen to us, going at each other like a couple of stupid grown-ups! Look at the sky now. Isn't it lovely? Someday, when we're outside again, I'm going to . . ."_

_And that's when the pounding started, and the loud voices barking in German, in Klingon, in some language I somehow know is Romulan even though I've never heard it spoken aloud. The door was pushed open, and the storm-troopers came in, only they're Romulans, and old-school Klingons and Borg, and Peter/Theo/Data was holding me, but when they ripped me away it was only Data, and his hands, his hands still clutching mine, were ripped away from his arms. And there were blinking lights and there was oozing yellow… ichor._

_"People are really good at heart," I heard myself repeat. "Good at heart."_

_The scene shifted, I was back in that cheap hotel room with Lore. Or Data. No, it was definitely Lore. "Good little girl. I had the first taste," Lore's voice came again. And through it all, my hands were gripped, viselike, by those long, golden fingers, those disembodied wrists with connectors severed from their appropriate ports._

_I couldn't help it._

_I screamed._

"Zoe, are you alright?" My mother was in my room, the lights were on, and I was in bed, not really awake, still caught in my dream, heart pounding and head a muddle of confused images.

"That's what Data asked when he took his arm apart," I said. It came out cracked and parched.

My mother sat on the foot of my bed. "Sweetie, if you're having nightmares about Commander Data…"

"I'm _not_ ," I said. "Well, not exactly. Mostly, I was dreaming about the play. And Lore. And… stuff."

"You don't usually have nightmares about performances."

"There aren't usually people I know in the audience," I said.

"Aren't there?" my mother asked, faintly amused.

I reached for the glass of water that was always on the bedside table, and took a sip. "Well, okay, there probably are, but I don't _know_ there are people I know in the audience, so it doesn't count. From a proper stage, you can't see faces."

My mother reached out and ruffled my seven-inches-shorter-than-it-used-to-be hair. "Do you want to talk about your dream?"

I shrugged. "It was kind of a mish-mash of stuff. The play. Data – he'd done something to his arm during my lesson a few weeks ago. He was trying to experience tendonitis, and when we were done playing, he took his arm apart and…"

"And you were confronted by the fact that he's a machine?"

"No. Well, yes, but not in the way you mean. Or… I don't know. It just seemed… weird. Like I shouldn't have been there, and ever since then… No, ever since _Lore_ , it's like when I look at him, he's my tutor, and he's my friend, but there's… more."

"You have a crush," my mother said, her fond expression threatening to turn positively gushy.

"Oh, please. Mom. Innocent virgins have crushes." But I could feel my cheeks heating up.

"And so do young women who haven't had a ton of relationship experience. For that matter, even older women with a _lot_ of relationship experience can still have crushes."

I stared at my mother for a long moment. "You mean you," I said. And then I clapped my hands together in sudden glee. "You mean you and Ed. Don't you?"

It was my mother's turn to blush. "Perhaps I do," she said. "And perhaps it's more than a crush. As to your feelings for Commander Data…"

"Yes?"

"I can't say I'm surprised. You spend a lot of time with him. You connect with each other through music, and now through theater. He holds you in high regard. A shift in your feelings was probably inevitable, but Zoe, he's a line officer, he's too old for you, and anything beyond friendship really would be inappropriate."

"And if it's just a crush, I'll get over it, right?"

She grinned. "You know this speech?"

"I might have heard it once or twice before."

"I thought you and Theo were spending time together."

"Theo's nice," I said. "He's a good kisser. He's fun to hang out with. He's kind of hot."

"Kind of?"

"He's devastatingly hot," I amended, "in a bookish, geeky, sort of way."

"But…"

I shrugged again. "I don't know. Sometimes there seems like there's spark-age, and sometimes there's no _there_ there. Anyway, he has a girlfriend back home."

"Oh."

"Exactly."

My mother opened her mouth to say something, but yawned instead, which made me yawn in response. "I think it's time we were both back in bed."

"I _am_ in bed," I pointed out.

"Back to sleep, then," she said. She ruffled my hair again. "G'night kiddo. Try to have good dreams this time?"

"I will," I said. "Thanks."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44314.43**

**(Tuesday, 25 April, 2367, 18:27 hours, ship's time)**

At our second-to-last rehearsal before opening night, and the first full run-through with lights, sets, costumes and music cues, Dr. Crusher showed up looking as haggard and exhausted as I felt. I knew my own condition was from the nightmares I couldn't shake – nightmares I hadn't yet spoken with Counselor Troi about – but I had no idea why the doctor would look so strained.

We went through the motions of the show. No one missed a cue, all the lines were uttered as they should have been, but the performance was lackluster.

"Okay," the doctor said, gathering us together for notes after we'd all changed out of our costumes. "I know I'm not the only one who wasn't feeling things tonight. It wasn't anything technical, just bad energy, so let's all go home and rest tonight, and come back tomorrow with our heads on straight."

Data opened his mouth to say something, and Dr. Crusher put her hand up, interrupting him. "It's just an expression, Data."

He closed his mouth but something flickered in his eyes, which made me think he hadn't planned to ask for an explanation of the colloquialism, after all.

"Zoe, wait here a minute – the rest of you can all go."

Theo caught my eye, and mouthed the question, _Do you want me to wait?_

I answered him with a quick shake of my head, and then turned my attention back to the doctor.

"You're a little off your game," she said softly. "Everything okay?"

I shifted my gaze toward my feet, then looked back up at her. "Just nightmares. I'll get over it."

"You don't strike me as someone who has performance anxiety-induced nightmares, Zoe."

"I'm not," I said. "Not usually. I don't know. Things have been weird, I guess." I hesitated a moment, letting silence stretch between us. "Doctor Crusher," I began, "no offense, but you don't exactly seem like your usual self either. I know ship's business is none of _my_ business, but... is it related to why Wes hasn't been in class the past few days?"

"It is," she said. "And it's nothing top-secret, Zoe. If you were paying attention to gossip, you'd have heard. Captain Picard and Wesley are on a mission together – it's nothing terribly complicated – and they haven't checked in. Intellectually I know they're fine…" She trailed off.

"But Wes is your son, and the captain is your friend?"

"Exactly."

"Maybe the adage about a bad dress rehearsal meaning a good performance will hold true," I offered.

"I'm sure it will," she said. She smiled at me, but it didn't quite meet her eyes.

"If our positions were reversed," I said, "I'd tell you to go talk to Counselor Troi. Actually, I'd tell myself the same. If not her, maybe you should just talk anyone. Someone else who has a kid, maybe?"

This time her smile was fully engaged. "Wesley mentioned you'd become a font of wisdom," she teased gently. "I promise to take your advice, if you do the same thing. Go talk to Deanna about your nightmares. I need my Anne at her best on Thursday night."

"Yes, ma' – okay," I said, stopping myself before I called her ma'am again. She really hated that.

"Now scoot! I'm sure you have homework to do or a meal to eat or something."

I laughed softly. "Yeah," I said. "I kind of do."

I left the auditorium, tapped the hated comm-badge I'd actually remembered to wear that day, and let my mother know I was on my way home.

**(=A=)**

"Going my way?" Theo was waiting near the bank of turbo-lifts.

"I thought we agreed you weren't waiting," I said.

He shrugged. "You agreed. I was worried about you."

"My performance tonight was that bad?" I asked, only slightly miffed.

"Not at all. Your energy was lower than usual, but… I don't know… the insomniac look sort of works for the character."

"Gee, thanks," I said.

"I heard you mention nightmares. I wondered if you needed an ear."

The computer reminded us to state a destination, so I named a deck before I said. "The problem with letting you offer an ear is that it tends to lead to other things that, while admittedly way more pleasant, are less productive."

"We don't have to make out," he said. "We can go someplace public and talk."

"You'd do that? Just… talk?"

For a moment he seemed surprised that I'd think anything else. "Zoe, how much dating have you actually done?"

I looked away. "I've hung out with guys all my life. Boys – men – whatever – they're easier than other girls. I never even really _had_ girlfriends until my mother dragged me here. I got together with one or two boys back home. I had a relationship with T'vek - I don't think you ever met him – that got really serious really fast."

"You've had relationships, but you haven't dated?"

"I guess… yeah. I mean… no."

"So when I asked about going to the next level… Zoe, you know that just because you and your T'vek were serious doesn't mean we have to be. If you're not ready…"

"I'm… not," I admitted. "Sometimes I almost am, and don't get me wrong, making-out with you is all kinds of delightful, but… Anyway, aren't you the one who has a girlfriend back home?"

He had the decency to blush. "Oh. That."

I gave him my best arched brow stare. "Oh. That." My tone was much cooler than his had been. The turbo-lift opened at the deck I'd requested. "I have to go," I said. "My mother's expecting me."

"Zoe…"

"Not tonight, Theo, please?"

"Okay, not tonight, but Zoe…"

"What?" I didn't bother to hide my exasperation.

"Your quarters aren't on this deck."

I looked at the indicator, saw the sign that said 'Deck 8' and realized I'd chosen the deck where Data's quarters were. "No," I said, "they're not. I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Let me just get out here, and take the next lift?"

He seemed both confused and concerned, but he took a step backward and the door closed between us. I hadn't really planned to bug Data, so I waited for the next car in the circuit, not even paying attention to who might be in it when the doors opened again.

"Zoe?" Counselor Troi stepped into the corridor. "Is everything alright?"

Inexplicably, I started to cry. "No," I said, feeling like a stereotypical melodramatic teenager even as I spoke the word. "I can't think and I keep having nightmares and I think… I think…"

She wrapped her arms around me from behind, the kind of supportive semi-hug that was exactly what I needed just then. "If you're looking for Data," she said, softly, "he's on the bridge. Why don't you come and have a cup of hot chocolate with me, and we'll talk?"

I was grateful for the offer. I was also mortified. "You're off duty," I said, pointing out the obvious. "I didn't mean to…"

"You are not intruding on anything. I'm here, and you obviously need to talk. Does your mother know where you are?"

"I'm supposed to be on my way home from rehearsal."

"Come with me, we'll call her from my quarters."

I knew better than to argue.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44314.84**

**(Tuesday, 25 April 2367, 22:02 hours, ship's time)**

"…and they've been getting worse and worse," I finished telling the counselor. "The last one was this total blend of real life and the play. Tev and Theo and Lore and… and Data… and Nazis and Borg and… what's wrong with me?"

We were sitting in her living quarters, on opposite ends of her couch, and we'd each been sipping hot chocolate. The counselor favored me with her warmest, friendliest smile. "The simple answer?" she asked with amused affection in her voice. "You're sixteen."

I rolled my eyes at that, "Gee, thanks ever so…"

"I know that sounds like a non-answer," she said. "But there's an element of truth in it. More than an element, actually. You're no longer a child, not quite an adult, and your hormones are shifting constantly, trying to find balance. It's no wonder your brain is doing strange things at night."

"Theo asked me earlier tonight – just before I ran into you – if I'd actually dated a lot. He seemed surprised that I'd really only ever had relationships."

Her dark eyes widened slightly, but she took my subject-change in stride. "He may have a point."

"Is it weird that I feel like I'm not ready to sleep with him, even though I slept with Tev?"

She reached across the couch to cover my free hand with hers. "No, Zoe, that's not 'weird' at all. There's no rule that says when sex is right or wrong between two people, and there's nothing that says you must have sex with anyone just because you're no longer a virgin. Has Theo been pressuring you?"

I thought very carefully about it. "No," I said. "I may have felt pressure, might still feel it, but it's coming from me, not him. He's been nothing but kind and supportive. And I mean… I like making out with him." We both laughed softly at that. "I'm just… not ready for more. I thought I was, but I realized I'm not. Not with him. Not yet."

"I'd say 'talk to Theo,' but it sounds like you've already begun that process."

"Yeah. The venue wasn't ideal – seriously, when did every turbo-lift on the ship become a mobile confessional? – but, yeah."

"Let's revisit your nightmares, then," she suggested, but she waited for my confirming nod before she continued, asking me, "When did this latest string of bad dreams begin?"

"Almost a month ago," I said after thinking about it. "The night after Ambassador K'Ehleyr was killed."

"Did you ever meet the Ambassador?" she asked softly.

"Only briefly. I think I'd have liked to get to know her, though. She was funny. Snarky, even."

Troi grinned. "Much like another young woman of my acquaintance." But she sobered quickly. "Do you think her death had something to do with your dreams?"

"No," I said. "I mean, not directly. There was something else that happened that day."

"Can you tell me what it was?"

"I had my usual Saturday Session with Data, and he'd done something to his arm to approximate tendonitis." She shared a look with me. "I know, right? Anyway, we stopped playing, and he opened a panel in his forearm and started tinkering with servos and actuators and… I don't know… I told him at the time that as much as I was fascinated by all his machine-y insides I felt like it was inappropriate somehow. Like I'd walked in on him naked."

"An inappropriate level of intimacy?" she suggested.

"Yeah, kind of. As if I hadn't earned… I mean… he's my tutor. He's my _friend_. But suddenly, everything is all weird in my head. I have nightmares about Lore, but then it's Data who's kissing me, and sometimes I wonder what it would be like if he really did… And then I remember that I'm just some student, and…" I froze. "Oh, god, it's true, isn't it?"

"Zoe?"

"I'm crushing on Data." I had to sit on my hands to keep from covering my face with them.

Her smile wasn't at all mocking, just soft and supportive, and maybe even a little bit wistful, as if she were remembering a crush of her own. "Yes, you are."

"So, Mom was right. Why do parents always have to be right?"

She laughed at that, the musical laugh that was more conspiratorial than anything else. "It is an annoying trait all mothers, in particular, seem to have."

"I held his hand," I said.

"Zoe?"

"Data. I held his hand. I mean, after he closed up his arm, and everything was… I mean, when he does that… after… it just looks like an arm. It could be anybody's arm, except, you know, gold and all. But I _had_ to know. So I… I stroked his arm, and…" I described exactly what I'd done. "And my pulse felt like it was pounding, and Counselor – _Deanna_ – whatever – he _let_ me. He's the adult. Isn't he supposed to stop my deviant behavior?"

"Zoe, nothing you did was deviant. It was a normal reaction. Haven't the two of you been physically affectionate before?"

"There's affectionate and _affectionate._ " I said. "We've hugged. He's held my hand before… but…  I don't know…  this was… I crossed a line. And he didn't stop me."

"Why did you do what you did?"

"Curiosity, mostly, I think," I answered. "I'd just seen all the blinky lights and stuff, and then it was just an arm, and… I asked him how much was him anticipating, and how much was responding. Have you ever wondered that? I mean, you put your hand over mine a bit ago, and if I'd wanted to move your hand off, I could've just slid mine out, no problem. But with Data… you can't really slip your hand out from under his unless he _lets you._ You can't twine your fingers with his unless he makes a conscious decision to bend his fingers, too."

"I actually hadn't ever considered that."

"Oh." Suddenly I was afraid I'd revealed too much.

"It's not wrong that _you_ did, Zoe. We all want to know how our friends and loved ones think and feel."

"What makes them tick," I said. "Only with Data the 'ticking' part is kind of more literal."

"Kind of," she agreed, using my words and filling them with warm humor.

"Sometimes when I'm kissing Theo, in my head I'm kissing Data," I confessed. "I never thought about him that way before… before Lore… and now, suddenly, I'm all too aware of him as a _man._ Oh, god. He could feel my pulse. He knows, doesn't he? Does he know?"

The counselor was doing an excellent job of following my jumps from topic to topic. "He may," she said, clearly hedging. "Or he may have merely assumed you were nervous after seeing his 'blinky lights' and other machine-parts."

"I kind of was," I admitted. "I mean… it doesn't change anything. He's still Data. It was just… I mean, I wouldn't have wanted to see veins and muscle, either."

"No," she agreed, "I don't doubt that."

"So what do I do?" I asked. "Do I cancel music theory and avoid him? Do I tell him? Do we move our lessons back to a public space? How can I look at him again?"

"You have several options, Zoe. You can either tell him, or not."

" _Tell him_?"

"Have you considered that Data was probably concerned about your reaction to seeing his inner workings?" I got the sense she was trying to lead me to a conclusion without divulging privileged information. "He has many friends among the crew, as you know, but the friendship the two of you have forged is warmer and deeper than anything else he's experienced. It wouldn't be at all unusual for him to be anxious about your reaction to being confronted with the knowledge that he's just a machine."

"Data isn't _just_ anything. Except maybe awesome," I said, and I felt the blush rise in my cheeks.

The counselor laughed. "Fair enough," she said. "Listen, Zoe… I wouldn't worry too much. I suspect your dreams will dissipate now that we've talked, and as for your crush – if that's what this is – "

"If?"

"With the amount of time you and Data spend together, and the obvious regard in which he holds you, I wouldn't be surprised if your relationship did shift as you get older." Her dark eyes widened into a mock-glare, " _Much_ older. You may be 'legal' in regard to consent laws…"

"But he's thirteen years older than me, and a line officer, and is watched carefully because of what he is," I repeated my mother's middle-of-the-night litany.

"Something like that, yes."

"Should I date?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said it yourself: Theo wasn't wrong. I've only ever had relationships. Should I try just… just dating? Not that there are a ton of appropriately-aged guys on the ship, but…"

"I think you should stop worrying about what is and isn't right, and what is and isn't appropriate and let yourself be open to what might happen. Cautious… but open. If your feelings for Data are just a crush, it will sort itself out. If they're real, well, he's an android and you're very young."

"But it wouldn't matter anyway, because he would never – _could never -_ return them."

"Are you certain of that?" the counselor asked, but before she could continue, her comm-badge chirped and she was being called to the bridge by Data, 'with apologies for the late hour.' "Go home," she said gently. "Get some sleep. We'll talk after the play."

"Okay," I said. We both stood up, and impulsively, I hugged her. "Thank you."

I was out the door a moment later, and in the lift a moment after that.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44319.74**

**(Thursday, 27 April, 2367, 17:00 hours, ship's time)**

Three hours before curtain, ninety minutes before my call time, I stepped out of the shower in my quarters on the _Enterprise_ to the sound of familiar voices rising and falling in the living room. I couldn't discern the words, of course, as they were muffled by the closed doors, but I recognized the tones.

Hurriedly, I ran a comb through my hair and threw on the sweats I'd be wearing to the auditorium. My dress for the after-party, the same one I'd worn to my father's symphony concert on Serenity Five, was already hanging in my dressing room. I paused to survey my face in the mirror. Since my impromptu counselling session with Deanna Troi two nights before, I'd managed to avoid nightmares, and I looked more like my usual self: well rested, if a little too old for my age, but only around the eyes. I glanced at the bouquet of Mizithryan Starflowers that were on my desk. They'd arrived early in the morning, with a card from Mom wishing me a successful performance. I was pretty sure she'd snuck them in while I was sleeping, but I didn't care. I loved that people were sending me flowers, as if this was a professional production.

Smiling, I left my room, and ran smack into, "Dad?" I asked, confused. "Daddy! When did you get here? Why didn't you tell me you were coming? Is Gia alright?"

My father pulled me into an exuberant hug. "Do you think I would miss my only daughter's opening night?" he asked. "I was in the neighborhood. It took me a commercial starship, two shuttles and an overnight jaunt on a rather unsavory space station to _get_ into the neighborhood, but…" He made a what-can-you-do sort of gesture.

"Dad," I said. "I'm so glad you're here. Did Mom know you were coming?" I glanced past him at my mother, who was smiling her patented gushy-mom look.

"She did, but she was sworn to secrecy."

"How long are you staying?"

"Just a couple of days; I'm actually meeting a transport and then heading to Mars for six weeks."

"Mars?"

"I'm teaching a six-week master class at the Martian," he said. "But we can talk about that later. Your mother has graciously arranged for guest quarters for me, and I'm heading to take a shower. I'll see you after your show."

I hugged him again. "There's an after-party in Ten-Forward. You should come. Is Gia with you?"

"She's not," he said. "We'll talk about that later, as well."

I peered at him, trying to suss out what he wasn't telling me, but I had never been adept at reading my father.

He left our quarters.

I turned toward my mother. Part of me wanted to demand to know how she could keep this a secret, but instead I just smiled at her. "Mom," I said. "Never let anyone say that you are not the best mother in the universe."

She looked at me as if my brain had exploded, but I didn't care. I went to her and hugged her as hard as I'd just hugged my father.

"Oh, Zoificus," she said softly, but I knew from her tone that what she was really saying was, "I love you."

"I have to go," I said. "See you after the show?"

"Count on it, kiddo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Diary of Anne Frank (the play, not the original book) was written by Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett, and originally produced on Broadway in 1955. It was turned into a movie in 1959. Zoe's dream incorporates dialogue from Act II, Scene 4. For those keeping track, this chapter takes place during the episode Final Mission.


	39. Just a Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The play is performed, and Zoe makes plans for a summer away from the Enterprise in the final chapter of CRUSH.

**Stardate 44320.48**

**(Thursday, 27 April 2367, 23:30 hours, ship's time)**

One of the things I've always loved about theater, even when my experience with it was relatively limited, is the fact that it continually surprises you.

Example: in _The_ _Diary of Anne Frank_ , in the last scene we all have together, the Nazi soldiers give us ten minutes to pack our bags. I'm supposed to run into my room, sit on the bed, and put shoes on, and then throw stuff into a school bag, while Data, as Mr. Dussel, is supposed to do similar business. In our first performance, the buckle of my shoe would _not_ cooperate, and Data – still perfectly in character – simply stilled my fumbling hands, met my eyes, and buckled the strap for me.

My breath caught when our eyes met, but I played the rest of the scene the way I was meant to, and tried not to think of how easy it was to get lost in that yellow-eyed gaze.

People talked about that moment at the after-party.

"Data, that was such a lovely moment with you and Zoe," Counselor Troi said. "Very organic."

"We should do it every night," I suggested. "I think it really adds depth to the Anne/Dussel relationship, turning it from purely adversarial to prickly, with a side of unresolved sexual tension."

"And this," Beverly Crusher intoned, "is why live theater is better than holograms or videos every time. You two _should_ do that same business every performance."

No one present disagreed.

The party, as all such gatherings do, reconfigured itself as the evening went on. What began with the cast and a few friends ended with the surreal experience of me sharing a table with both of my parents, as well as Ed, who was not only one of my teachers, but also my cast-mate _and_ possibly, maybe, my mother's new flame, Theo, the boy I wasn't dating but wasn't quite not-dating either, and Data.

Theo, warm and so very animated, was sitting next to me, and my father was on my other side, but the seating placed Data almost directly across from me, and that moment from the play kept replaying in my head. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't _not_ look at him.

"…if that is acceptable to Zoe, as well," he was saying, and I realized I had no idea what the conversation had been.

"I'm sorry, what?" I said.

My mother and father favored me with matching concerned looks, but Data just calmly explained. "Your father asked if he could sit in on our theory lesson on Saturday morning."

Did the disappointment at knowing I'd have to share my time with him show on my face, or did the pride associated with showing off for my father trump that? I didn't know then. I don't know now. I _do_ know that I forced a bright smile and said, "Of course it's 'acceptable.' Can we play that Vulcan duet for him?"

My father's expression turned from his typical social politeness to true interest. "Vulcan duet?"

"Yes," Data said. "We have been exploring several different musical styles during the 'hands on' portion of our sessions together."

"The Vulcan piece is by…?"

"It is the 'Second Duet for Terran Strings' by Sonek."

"That's a complicated piece… you have to balance the urge to play with passion and the need for technical precision. I can see why it would appeal to you, but it doesn't strike me as something Zoe would appreciate."

"Perhaps you should reserve judgment until you hear us play it," Data said, with the merest hint of… something… in his tone. Something apparently only I noticed.

Or maybe my father caught it, as well. "Perhaps I should," he conceded. "Forgive me; I haven't quite adjusted to ship's time. I'm off to bed. Zoe… breakfast tomorrow at nine-thirty?"

"I can't," I said. "My math tutor is a stickler for attendance, and I promised all my teachers the play wouldn't interfere with school. I can do eight-thirty, or we can do lunch. Class ends at noon."

"I'd prefer the morning, if you think you can be up…?" My father's tone softened into one of affection, "None of us Harrises are 'morning people,'" he reminded me.

_"_ Mornings are _so_ overrated," I agreed _._ "But for my _favorite_ father, I think I can pass for a morning person for _one_ day. Just don't complain if there are truly lethal amounts of caffeine and sugar involved."

"Heaven forfend I stand between my only child and her caffeine habit."

"Apple, tree… not far to fall…" I said. " _Both_ trees, actually. I mean, really, was I _weaned_ on espresso?"

"Oh, Zoe," my mother joined the conversation, having finished a side chat with Ed and Theo. "You know we didn't let you have actual espresso before you were five."

Laughing, my father rose from his chair and dropped a kiss on the top of my head. "Good night, Zoetrope. Remember to stop spinning and get a little bit of sleep, please?"

I waited a few more minutes, then faked a yawn. "Don't say it," I said to my mother who was about to send me to bed. "I'll see you at home." I turned to Ed, "Have her home by two, young man," I teased.

Everyone except Data chuckled softly, but it was clearly time for the entire group to disperse. Theo offered to walk me home, and Data excused himself to head to the bridge. Fortunately, that meant the three of us were not taking the same turbo-lift.

**(=A=)**

"So, I've been thinking," Theo began, once we were alone, "I was wrong to question your relationship experience."

I shook my head. "Actually, you brought up a valid point," I said. "I mean. I really _haven't_ done the casual-dating-thing much. I fell into a serious relationship with T'vek, and then…" I sighed. "You should know that I got into a little trouble a few months ago. It was just after you would have come aboard, actually."

"Oh?"

I gave him the capsule version of my experience with Lore, and then explained about the nightmares I was having, and how that was part of the reason I wasn't ready to go further with him.

"I didn't mean to push you, Zoe," he said.

"You didn't," I said. "You haven't, really."

We were quiet for a long while, in the lift, and then in the corridor, but at my door, Theo asked, "Come visit me this summer?"

"In Boston? Have you forgotten I'm sixteen? My parents would never allow it."

"Not Boston, San Francisco. I'm due to head home in a couple of weeks, but I'll be in San Francisco beginning in June, at Aunt Alynna's. It's a huge house, and there's plenty of room – she wouldn't mind."

"My parents still wouldn't allow it."

He mimicked my earlier tone. "Have you forgotten that my Aunt Alynna is Admiral Nechayev? Starfleet's own Dragon Lady? I can't imagine your parents – either of them – would find her an unacceptable chaperone."

I smiled. "Okay, fair point. But… while they might allow me to visit for a week or two, they'd never allow me to rattle around your aunt's house for an entire summer, and not only because it would be an imposition." He gave me a reproachful look. "It _would_ ," I insisted. "Not to mention that it would imply we're more than we are."

"Well, there is that." He seemed to consider something. "What do you _usually_ do during summer breaks?"

"You mean when I'm not involved in drunken carousing on the beach? In between surfing, I usually do summer stock at Capitol City, or a summer music program. I was in the Centaurus Youth Symphony last year, and then there was Shakespeare camp, and Backstage Beach Haven, and…"

"Wow, don't you ever just relax?"

"For me, music and theater are as necessary to my being as eating, breathing, and coffee." I could feel my smile twist into a wry grin. "Besides, I think I mentioned I like surfing."

"Possibly once or twice," he conceded. "Well, why don't you just find some music and theater programs in the City? San Francisco may not be the bastion of trust-fund babies that Beach Haven is, but we do have a few arts programs. And then there's that whole hub-of-Federation-society thing. We even –" and he waggled his eyebrows at me "-have excellent surfing."

"Oh, twist my arm, why don't you?"

"So… you'll come?"

"You heard. I'm meeting Dad for breakfast early in the morning. If I show up armed with pamphlets and information, there's no way he'll say 'no' to his favorite daughter."

"Aren't you his only daughter?"

"And your point is?"

He laughed, "Okay, okay… let me know what you figure out."

"Tomorrow night before curtain work for you?"

"Sounds like a plan." We had arrived at my door, and the mood shifted. He lifted his hand and ran it through my hair. "Zoe…"

"Shh." I stood on tip-toe to kiss him. It was sweet and tender, and that was all, but it was enough. "Goodnight, Theo."

"G'night," he said softly.

He'd disappeared around the curve of the corridor before my door had _wooshed_ closed behind me.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44321.51**

**(Friday, 28 April, 2367, 08:30 hours, ship's time)**

"…so I did some research and there are four or five programs that still have open application periods, and mostly coincide with my school break," I told my father over coffee and bagels with cream cheese and lox the next morning. Our eight-thirty breakfast hadn't actually begun until more like nine-fifteen, and I was perilously close to being late for my math tutorial, but it wasn't like I saw my father every day. I might have joked about Data's strict attendance requirements, but the reality was that he would understand if I showed up late…or not at all.

"It's a lot to go through just to spend the summer being with a boy you don't really love," Dad said, cutting to the chase the way he always did.

"How do you know I don't love Theo?" I asked. Not that I'd ever claimed to. I _liked_ him, sure, and I enjoyed making out with him, but no one had ever mentioned more.

"Well, there's the matter of most of your attention being on your Commander Data last night, for one thing."

"He is not _my_ Commander Data," I protested, likely (from his perspective) proving his point. "And it wouldn't matter if he was. He's my _friend_ , and when you hear us play together tomorrow you'll be blown away by how much my musicianship has improved. Anyway, boy or no boy, I really want to do something new, something that will help me get into the Martian or wherever. I guess… I feel like I want to stretch my wings, a little."

"Does your counselor think being so far from home would be wise?"

I sat back in my chair, rocked by the question. "You know about me seeing a counselor?"

"Zoe-darling, just because your mother and I aren't married to each other, doesn't mean we're not both your parents. We do talk, and she keeps me informed." He took a healthy swig of his double espresso. "She mentioned nightmares."

I took a breath, deciding what to say, and how to say it. "That's actually part of the reason I want to go away. I want to be in a place where I don't have any memories. I _absolutely_ need a break from being on this ship. Dad… the guy who… the man I followed… Mom told you it was Data's brother, right? Physically, they're virtually identical. Data's my friend, and he's been amazing to me, but half the time when I look at him I'm with Lore."

I didn't tell him that the _other_ half the time I looked at my tutor I wanted to kiss him until one or both of us was senseless. Teen fantasy aside, I knew it wouldn't help my case.

"I think some distance might be a good thing. Then I can come back here and start my junior year with the emotional equivalent of a clean slate."

"And you can't get this distance at home?"

"I could," I said. "But I've done every summer program there is. I'm too old for junior company, and not old enough for the conservatory. San Francisco has more options. Actually, I'm looking at two that would be pretty amazing. Both include boarding, balance instruction and performance opportunities, and would give me the chance to work with real musicians and actors."

"I'm not a real musician?" I could hear the humor in his voice that meant I was winning him over.

"Dad, you know what I mean." I waited a beat, then added, "Anyway, you're going to be on Mars aren't you? I could visit you there before going to Earth, and we could have some serious father-daughter time."

"I seem to recall," he said, "that our last serious father-daughter time put a serious dent in my credit account," but he was smiling when he said it. "Talk to me about the programs you're interested in. Did you look at cost? The advantage of coming home is living at home."

I picked up my padd to show him the brochures I'd downloaded. "There are two programs I really love, and a few others that seem 'just okay.' Suzuki San Francisco starts in June, and runs through mid-July," I began, and then I explained how it involved master classes, technique intensives, and even an all-string orchestra. "Plus, the teachers are all principal artists with different orchestras or teach strings at different music schools. You probably know some of them. _I_ probably know some of them."

"Suzuki is a good program," he said. "I actually taught there a few times when you were very little."

"I don't remember."

"You wouldn't. You would have been at the farm, I think."

"Oh."

"What's the drama program you're looking at?"

I told him about that one, as well, and he finally agreed that if I got approval from Mom, and Counselor Troi, he'd provide the necessary funds for me to not only attend both programs, but also have spending money for the summer.

"I do have a condition, however," he added.

"Another one?"

"It's a deal-breaker. I want you home for Christmas again this year. If you and this boy – "

"Theo – "

" _Theo_ – are still seeing each other, you may invite him along. What happened to T'vek? I liked him."

"We broke up. His family got PCS'd."

"Ah. I'm sorry."

"Me, too. But… why is it so important that I be home? I mean, love you and all, but it's not like you're getting married again, and Mom should get a holiday with me once in a while."

"She should," he agreed. "But don't you want to be there when your brother or sister is born?"

"What?"

"Gia is pregnant."

"What!?"

"She's due in late December or early January."

"What! Oh, Dad, that's _stellar_!"

I got up so quickly that I knocked my chair over, and I flung my arms around my father's neck. "So, I take it you approve?" he asked, and then, "Zoe darling, if you want me to pay for your summer plans, I need to be able to breathe."

I let him go. "I approve," I said. "I won't pretend I'm not still a little pissed about how you told me about you and Mom breaking up, or how you introduced Gia to me in the middle of a field trip with all my friends, but I saw how happy you were at the wedding, and… you and mom both seem a lot more settled and together now that you're apart than you ever did when you were still married. You're both so much more… I don't know… relaxed."

"Well," he said, with the tone of a man who'd been expecting a battle, and was at a loss without someone to fight. "I'm glad you approve."

"I'll come for Christmas, Dad. Even if you don't pay for San Francisco."

But we both knew he would.

Any further conversation was curtailed by the chirp that came from my detested comm-badge. "Go for Zoe," I said, because the only people who ever used the thing were my friends or my mother.

\- _This is Data,_ came my tutor's voice, and I blanched at the sound. _That was a most unconventional form of acknowledgement, Zoe. Class is due to begin now. Will you be joining us?_

"Oh, god," I said, "Sorry, Data, I'm still with my father. I'm on my way."

\- _Very well. Data out._

"I'm late," I said, mortified. "I'm late to the one class I never want to be late for. And I don't even _like_ math." I jumped up, and kissed my father on the cheek. "Love you. Mean it. Gotta go."

**(=A=)**

I didn't _exactly_ run from my father's guest-quarters to the conference room where we had class, but I was still breathing heavily when I got there, and I was even more mortified to find they'd held class for me. "I'm so sorry," I said. "My father and I were discussing summer plans, and we got a little sidetracked when he told me I'm going to be a big sister." I met Data's eyes, and unlike the night before, I didn't feel like I was drowning. "Dock me ten points, or whatever."

"There is no need," he said, but he added, probably to make it clear I wasn't getting special treatment, "See that you are not tardy again." He paused long enough for me to take my seat, but instead of reviewing the previous lesson, he said, "Before we begin, I wish to make an announcement. This will be Wesley's final session with us."

Annette, Dana, Josh, and I all turned toward our friend.

"What, you're gonna be on the bridge full-time now?" Josh demanded.

"No," Wes said. "Actually, I'm leaving for the Academy on Sunday." He leaned forward to meet my eyes more directly, "I'll be on the same shuttle back toward Earth with your father, Zoe."

I leaned around Dana and Josh, as well. "Wow, Wes, that's quick." I sat back. "Data, what does that mean for the rest of us? Are we all being given our final exam today? I mean, this tutorial was created _because_ of Wes, wasn't it?"

"Anyone who wishes to take their final examination today may certainly do so," Data agreed, but there was a hint of confusion in his voice, as if he hadn't considered that the rest of us were essentially guests in Wesley's private lesson. "However, Wesley has already done so, and I believe the rest of you would benefit from remaining in class for the rest of the school year."

Annette stood up, then, and I realized that not only had Wes not told me or Dana or Josh about his leaving, he hadn't told his girlfriend, either. "Data, is there any way we could just cancel class today, and go to Ten-Forward or the holodeck or something?" she asked. Then she turned toward Wesley, "I cannot believe you didn't tell me about this."

Wesley didn't have a chance to respond. Data said, "I accept your suggestion, Annette. Which location would you prefer?"

"Ten-Forward, definitely," she said.

The six of us picked up our padds and relocated to the ship's hot-spot, where much of the senior staff, and most of our parents, were already waiting.

"You knew about this," Wes accused his girlfriend.

"You didn't think we'd let you leave without a party, did you?" Annette gave him a playful shove. "It would have been at night but with Data and Zoe and your mom all wrapped up in the play…"

I stepped away from them to give the illusion of privacy, and nearly backed into Data, who prevented my stumble with a lightly restraining hold on my arm. I almost didn't want him to let go. "'Anyone who wishes to take their final examination today may certainly do so?'" I teased. "Data, really?"

"Technically, that is always the case. However, I also stated that remaining in class for the rest of the school year would be of benefit."

"Look at you, being all mischievous," I teased lightly, but then I asked. "So, is there going to be a next year? Because while I'm _never_ going to like math, another year with you teaching it and I might actually comprehend it."

"You comprehend more than you generally admit," he observed. "I will continue the tutorial as long as there are students who will benefit from it."

He was pulled away by some officer I didn't know, and Dana and Josh came to flank me. "Everything's changing," my best friend said. "Tev's gone, Wes is leaving. I wonder who'll be next."

"Me," I said. "But only for the summer." I favored her – and by extension Josh – with a grin. "Talk later," I said. "I see cake."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44381.05**

**(Saturday, 20 May, 2367, 02:00 hours, ship's time)**

The previous three weeks had been crazy-busy, at least for me.

We'd finished the run of the play, my father had left, I'd done the applications to the summer programs – with Data's help – and been accepted to Suzuki and to the ACT Summer Youth Congress. I'd passed all my classes (even math) with flying colors, and I'd said good-bye to Theo.

Oddly, I didn't miss him as much as I'd expected I would.

Theo's aunt Alynna – Admiral Nechayev to almost everyone else – had confirmed that I was welcome, and, indeed, expected, to stay with them before, between, and after my other programs.

The night before I was supposed to leave, I had a party.

Or rather, I'd been given a party. Just as with Wesley, my friends had been conspirators, choosing wisely to run our tutorial's theme park program one more time. All day, we'd been in and out of it (I took time to pack) and anyone else who wanted to had been invited, even encouraged to join in the fun.

By ten that night, only my closest friends – Annette, Dana, Josh, Laura Gilbert who'd played my sister Margot in _Anne_ , Ray Barnett, who I still hung out with from time to time, Nytan who was sometimes part of our group, and sometimes not – Ed, my mother, Counselor Troi and Commander Riker (I tended to think of them as a single unit), Geordi, and Reg, were left, and Data was due back from the bridge at any second.

Once he arrived, we shut down the open access to the holodeck, and kept the last couple of hours private, but by midnight it was just our math class and Data.

Just before two hundred hours, I separated myself from the group, and wandered off alone. Not that you could really be alone when you were all really in one room, but… it _felt_ like I was alone.

Data found me at the entrance to the Ferris wheel. "Your classmates have gone home," he said. "Do you wish me to leave as well? You are familiar with the proper procedure for closing and saving the program."

"I am," I said.

He turned to go. "I wish you well this summer, Zoe. It has been a pleasure having you in cla – "

"Stop it." I cut him off.

"I do not understand."

"No one else is here, right?"

"I believe I said that."

"Then, could you stop being my tutor, and just be my friend for this last little while?"

His posture relaxed slightly, and he turned back to gaze up at the giant, brightly-lit wheel. "I have not yet taken the opportunity to experience this 'ride,'" he said.

I caught the eye of the holographic operator, and he brought the spinning wheel to a stop, and let the holographic patrons off. "All yours, Miss," he said.

I grinned at Data. "So, ride now. Do you want your own gondola, or do you want to share?"

"Is sharing not the expected practice?"

"It is," I said, faintly nervous, "but typically it's couples who… you know what? Never mind. It's no more intimate than tea on your couch."

"That is true."

We settled ourselves onto the gently-swaying bench and pulled the safety bar into its locked position while the holographic operator swung the door shut. Data waited for the ride to begin before observing, "There was no Ferris wheel in the theme park on Serenity Five."

"No," I said. "This ride was my idea. I thought we needed a focal piece. Besides, when you get to the top, and look down at the park below, or up at the stars – even though you know it's not real – it's a really different perspective. Clarifying." I hesitated. "December feels like forever ago," I said. "I came here with Tev after your shuttle exploded. He rode it with me for hours, and then we stopped it at the top and he just sat there with me. Then he tried to convince me to eat soup." I waited a beat, then asked, "Is it weird that I feel guilty about missing tomorrow's theory session with you?"

"I am also experiencing a sense of… absence… in that regard."

"Yeah, but on the bright side, you'll be free of me for three months. Just think of all that reclaimed personal time."

"You know the time we spend together is neither an imposition nor an inconvenience," he chided gently.

"I _do_ know that, and I'm grateful. I'm going to miss spending those hours with you every week, too, but, I really need to do something kind of normal for a while. I need to make friends who are interested in the same things I am – friends my own age - and start figuring out if I really want to go to the Martian, like my father, or choose another school. And…" I hesitated. "I need to be off this ship for few months."

"I understand. If there is anything I can ever do to assist you, Zoe, please do not hesitate to ask."

He seemed to withdraw inside himself, then, turning his head to look out over the holographic park below us. I wondered if maybe he knew that I needed distance from him, as well. I saw the stiffness return to his bearing, even sitting down.

The ride lurched to a stop when we reached the top of the circle, as Tev and I had designed it to do whenever there were two non-holographic riders sharing a car. A gentle breeze wafted through the feels-like-late-spring air, and the gondola rocked like a porch swing.

I reached out to touch Data's arm, but pulled my hand back. Then I reached out again, resting my hand on his shoulder, instead. I called his name.

"Yes, Zoe?" He turned his head to meet my eyes, and my breath caught.

If he'd been T'vek, if he'd been Theo, I would have kissed him. I mean… we were at the top of the Ferris wheel, and the park was programmed for twilight. Part of me wanted to, as much to see what would happen as to find out if he really would feel different from Lore.

Part of me wasn't quite ready.

I took my hand away from his shoulder, captured his hand, squeezed, and released, leaving my palm resting against his. "Assuming I don't blow off all my summer plans to teach surf school in Tahiti," I said, "would you be willing to continue our Saturday Sessions, when I get back? Seth keeps saying he can't teach me anything more, and working with you is… there's nothing like it."

"That would be agreeable," he said. I could see him relaxing just a bit.

"And would you mind if, while I'm away, I wrote or comm'd from time to time?"

His posture softened again, and that tiny 'real' smile showed on his face. "I would not mind," he said.

He kept hold of my hand for the rest of the ride.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44381.50**

**(20 May, 2367, 03:00 hours, ship's time)**

"You're late," my mother informed me from her position on the couch. She was literally lying in wait for me.

"You don't seem all that upset."

"If I'm trusting you to spend the summer in San Francisco," she said. "I think I should be able to trust you when you haven't even left the ship."

"Well," I answered, sitting on the arm of the couch, on the end where her feet were. "That's very enlightened of you, Mom."

"Also," she added, "Commander Data let me know you were with him."

I laughed softly. "Of course he did." I yawned. "I should get to bed," I said. "We're doing brunch before my shuttle leaves, right?"

"11:30 hours," she confirmed. "I invited Ed; I hope that's okay."

"Could we… he'll probably decline, but could we invite Data to join us?"

My mother's smile was positively beatific. "I already have." I grinned at her, and patted her sock-covered ankle, after which she said, "Zoe, I have to ask: are you in love with him?"

"With Data?" I laughed, but when I gave her my answer, I wasn't certain if I was lying, or kidding myself: "Of course not, Mom," I said. "It's just a crush."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoe's summer programs are based on the sorts of summer programs young actors and musicians typically attend. ACT really does offer a summer youth program. The Suzuki program is based on the annual National Cello Institute summer program that takes place at Pomona College every year. Data's stage business with Zoe's shoe is a blatant rip-off from the staging of the same scene in the 2009 UK production of The Diary of Anne Frank (it's available on Hulu+). Crush ends here, but Data and Zoe have a lot more to their story. Look for a sequel to begin in a few days.


	40. Teasers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teasers for the future of the CRUSHverse...

Dear Readers,

This story has been complete at FFnet for years, even though I've only just finished posting it here today,  and I'm currently working on book three, but there's SO much more to the CRUSHverse, and I wanted to share a little of it with you.

First, let me tease you with the opening of _Hello From Earth, Having a Wonderful Time, Wish You Were Here_ , which picks up days after chapter 50 of _Crush_.

**(==A==)**

**Hello from Earth…**

**( Unless otherwise noted all messages are video recordings. )**

**Stardate 44395.54**

**(Thursday, 25 May 2367, 09:00 AM, Mars Standard Time)**

**To: Keiko Ishikawa O'Brien, _U.S.S. Enterprise_**

**From: Zoe Harris, Hotel Curiosity, Mars**

Hi, Keiko! I'm recording this on my padd at the breakfast table, so I only have a minute, but I wanted to let you know I received the file with the pictures from your wedding. Sorry I had to miss it, but I'm pretty sure you didn't _really_ need some kid hanging around. I know, I know, you're not that much older than I am, but… look at you, all 'Sadie, Sadie, married lady.' Congratulations!

Anyway, your dress was amazing! I've never seen a kimono that delicate looking, and you really did glow the way all the magazines say you're supposed to.

Actually, _everyone_ looked amazing - I can't believe Ed wore a tuxedo - but then, he's not Starfleet, and everyone else was in formal dress. He and my mother look _so_ good together, don't you think?

Thanks, also, for the picture of Data – I'd never seen him all dressed up before. I know you can see me blushing, but please don't tell him I did? Someone should frame a copy of that image of him though…

Dad has a class this morning – he's teaching a spring intersession kind of thing, through June – but this afternoon we're going to the Spirit Arboretum. I can't wait to see it.

_(An audible chime interrupts the recording.)_

Oh! My ride is here. Friends of Dad's have daughters my age, and we're spending the morning getting mani-pedis together. Gotta go.

 

**(=A=)**

**Thursday, 25 May 2367, 3:00 PM, Eastern Time**

**From: Theodore Nechayev MIT, Boston, MA, Earth**

**To: Zoe Harris, Hotel Curiosity, Mars**

Well, Zoe, I did it!

I have completed my last exam, turned in my last documentation from my time on the _Enterprise_ and I stand – well, I'm sitting. Hmm. Alright, I _sit_ before you a free man, and a rising junior. I'm told next year will be intense, so I hope you're planning to have some fun between music and theater stuff because I'm excited about getting to show you MY city.

Aunt Alynna says she's got the guest suite already for you, and to let you know that yes, there is a bathtub. She asked me what your favorite scents were, and I'm afraid all I could remember was that you dislike roses. No matter. There's a bath shop in one of the shopping districts that you will love, and I will suffer manfully through because it's my job as your host.

Before you ask, no, she's not expecting that we're serious; she knows I invited you as a friend.

And, friend-of-mine, you'll want to be in your best comfort mode, because Cherise – the on-again/off-again girl I told you about – is definitely off-again, this time forever.

I can imagine the look of doubt crossing your face, so before you crumple a napkin to throw at the screen – don't you dare glare at me, Miss Harris – you should know that a copy of her wedding announcement to some lawyer from Harvard is attached to this recording.

Can't wait to see you next week.

**_(Attachment, from the Boston Herald)_ **

_Girard – Kaplan_

_Cherise Girard and Evan Kaplan were married Saturday the 20th of May, 2367 at Memorial Church, Harvard University. The reception followed at the Plaza Tent on campus._

_The bride is the daughter of Claire and Edmond Girard, of Quebec, and is currently a student at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, where her studies are focused on Urban Planning and Civil Engineering. She will graduate with the class of 2369._

_The groom is the son of Harriet and Norman Kaplan, of Chicago, and completed his legal studies at Harvard University in January of this year. He is currently an associate at the law firm of Kaplan, B'nel'kp, and Rogers, and is based in Boston._

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44402.71**

**(Saturday, 27 May 2367, 11:45 PM, Mars Standard Time)**

**To: Lt. Commander Data, _U.S.S. Enterprise_**

**From: Zoe Harris, Hotel Curiosity, Mars**

Hi, Data. This message is really brief because it's almost midnight, and I'm very tired and a little buzzed from champagne.

Yes, you heard that correctly. Champagne. Dad let me have some at the after-party, but it had been hours since I'd eaten anything and… oh, god…  telling this completely backwards.

Okay, five words: I saw the Tantalus Quartet.

I saw them, and heard them, and met them, and it turns out that their cellist, Hugo Rodriguez, is actually one of the instructors at the Suzuki thing, and he's going to make sure I'm assigned to his section.

How cool is that?

I mean… seriously?

Anyway, the concert was amazing, and the after-party was really lovely, but it would have been better if you were there. I mean, going to their concert with Dad was fabulous, but his suits are always rumpled and he never lets anyone press them, and Keiko sent me the pictures from her wedding and you looked…

_(Zoe utters the next line in a tone of perfect, sudden clarity.)_

Actually, you looked pretty amazing.

_(And then she reverts to her usual breezy style.)_

I mean seriously…  are you not beating women off with a stick?

Oh-oh! Hugo and Gae-Lyn said to hook you up with their booking agent, so I've sent that information as a text file. They said if their schedule meshes with the ship's, ever, and anyone would be interested, they'd be willing to come aboard and do a concert or two, gratis.

_(Data is then treated to a really intense yawn from Zoe.)_

Remind me of the time conversion, and I'll call live and in-person when I'm settled in San Francisco.

G'night, Data.

**(==A==)**

 

If that wasn't enough of a tease for you, the second novel-length entry in the CRUSHverse, _Crush II:_ Ostinato, is also complete, along with a host of side-stories. Here's the opening section of _Crush II_ , which I hope to begin posting here after _Hello From Earth…_  

**Anvil**

**Stardate 44669.52 (2 September 2367, 09:00 hours local time)**

**Starbase Twelve**

Airports. Spaceports. Starbase transit lounges. It didn't matter what they were called, there were certain universal truths that applied to all of them, and when you were moving through one at the end of what was, for most of the worlds in the same sector as Earth, the last few days before the beginning of a new school year, there were a lot of families with kids returning from vacations, and a lot of students traveling on their own.

With my cello worn back-pack style (for easier transport) and my single rolling suitcase (anti-grav wasn't allowed in customs) I could have been any of the latter. Even my clothes: a t-shirt and jeans, vintage combat boots, and a sweatshirt tied around my waist, were almost a kind of uniform, the sorts of things worn by young humanoids for centuries. The colors might change, and the languages represented on the t-shirt slogans might be nearly innumerable, but the basic form was classic.

The difference was that instead of heading back to Earth or Centaurus, Vulcan or Corsica, or even Risa (home of the champion inter-collegiate beach volleyball team since 2359) _I_ was headed back to school on a starship, and not just _any_ starship, either: Starfleet's flagship, the _U.S.S. Enterprise_.

I was also traveling alone, as my mother and my once and future literature teacher were spending an extra week on Earth, after a week of something that was closer to a family vacation than anything I'd previously experienced. Not that I minded. My mother was greatly deserving of some personal time, and Ed, the teacher in question, was a great guy. I wasn't staking actual money on it, or anything, but I was betting there would be a proposal before the week was out.

"Next!" The voice of the transit officer in front of me roused me from my musing about Mom and Ed, and I stepped forward and presented my ID chit. "Name and destination?"

"Zoe Harris. I'm meeting the _Enterprise_ ," I said.

The blue-skinned, white-haired officer looked me over, his antennae bobbing slightly with the movements of his head. "You're a bit young to be Starfleet," he said.

I grinned. "A bit," I agreed. "My mother's in the science division there. Lt. Commander Emily Harris." She and my father had been divorced for almost a year, now, but she'd kept his last name. She was used to it, she'd explained. And changing records was a hassle.

"I have your records here," I was told. "Harris, Zoe. Bound for _Enterprise,_ as you said. Here's your temporary comm-badge; it will give you access to station facilities and help them track you if you don't want to stay on the Starfleet deck. The ship's not due to arrive for several hours, but you're flagged as VIP status so I'm going to assign a room to you. Feel free to leave your belongings there while you roam around the station. There will be an announcement when _Enterprise_ docks, but a transit officer will find you, even so. You're sixteen, which means we don't need to assign a companion unless you ask for one."

"I'm good," I said, feeling like a seasoned traveler. In a sense, I was, having been on tour with my father for a good chunk of my childhood, but those had always been commercial transports, and some minion had handled all the paperwork. "But thank you."

There was a scuffle a couple of aisles over, where people were standing with picket signs – digital displays on meter-long handles – reading _Keep Earth Human_ and _Humans First_. They were chanting, as well, and waving the signs at anyone who wasn't obviously human.

"Charming people," I snarked. "They know they're at arrivals, right?"

Eyes and antenna turned in the direction of the noise, and then refocused on me. "You'd think they'd have figured it out," he said. "They're here almost every week. Mostly they're just annoying, but we've gotten a couple of bomb threats." His hand rose to clamp over his mouth in embarrassment. "Oops, sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Listen, I'm sure you'll be fine." He scanned my retina and fingerprints and pressed a few keys on his console. "Welcome to Starbase Twelve, Ms. Harris. Enjoy your stay."

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44669.78 (2 September 2367, 11:17 hours, local time)**

The best thing about Starbase Twelve, I decided, was that there was a branch of my favorite café there. I was sitting at a window table at Red Sands, watching the people on the Starbase promenade and nursing my second café mocha of the morning, when a familiar voice interrupted me.

"Ah, Zoe. I suspected I would find you here."

I looked up into the yellow eyes and pale gold face I'd missed seeing all summer. "Where there's coffee…" I began, teasingly, but I trailed off, when I noticed the smirk on this man's face. "Oh," I said, trying to sound unperturbed, "Lore."

The facial tic he still hadn't completely eradicated confirmed my assessment. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, dropping into the other chair at my table before I could even answer. "Actually, it doesn't matter if you mind or not. So, little girl, happy to see me?"

"Thrilled," I snarked at him. "Ecstatic, even." We both knew I was only being sarcastic to cover my fear. "Shouldn't you be stalking women your own age instead of teenagers?"

He managed a snort. "If you allow for all the years I spent packed away in pieces, I'm closer to your age than you might think," he said. "Certainly closer than my dear brother. He's, what, fifteen years your senior?"

"Thirteen," I corrected, though I was pretty sure he'd known the real number all along. "Not that it matters, since we don't have a relationship beyond friendship."

"But you want one."

"This again?" I asked. "Really? Brain like yours, and you have nothing better to do than worry about who may or may not be crushing on your brother? Don't you have puppies to kick or worlds to conquer or something?"

"Or something," he allowed, but his smirk had only gotten bigger. "Look, little girl, whatever you claim your relationship with my brother is, you _matter_ to him, and therefore you are extremely useful to me. Finish your drink, and let's take a little walk."

"You send me 'anonymous' notes, follow me around San Francisco, show up at my concerts, and now you want me to go on a walk with you? Are you sure your programming isn't glitching?"

"Oh, you are an amusing child," he said, the delighted smile he wore only making him seem creepier. He leaned across the table, so that anyone watching us would think we were having a romantic tete-a-tete instead of…whatever this was. "I need you to carry a message to my brother."

"Do I _look_ like a carrier pigeon?" I asked, using irritation to mask the terror running through me. Could he see me shaking?

"Carrier pigeon?" his eyes flickered back and forth in much the same fashion I was used to seeing in Data. I didn't point out that his brother's searches never took as long. "Oh, very good," he commented. "No, you look like someone who wouldn't want to be responsible for the destruction of a Starbase and the death of the good people who inhabit it."

"You're right," I agreed. "Because I'm _not._ I'm just a student heading back to school. And you know if Starfleet finds you here…"

"The _Enterprise_ is still hours away, and even if you signaled right now it would take transit officers seventeen minutes to get here…just long enough for you and I to have a little one-on-one time." He licked his lips suggestively. "You know you want to."

I stared directly into his yellow eyes. Nine months ago, I'd mistaken him – Lore – for his brother, my friend and tutor, Lt. Commander Data, and followed him into an unsavory section of a different Starbase. He'd ended our first encounter by kissing me and then knocking me out, leaving me with a new awareness of his brother in the process.

I still dreamed about that kiss from time to time.

Half the time, it was Data kissing me.

The other half the time, those dreams were nightmares.

"I know I _don't_ ," I said. "I also know that I wouldn't be responsible for whatever sick and twisted plan you've got up your stolen sleeve." I looked him up and down as I said it, taking in the fact that the uniform he was wearing was now out of date – the collar was all wrong, and the design of the sleeves had changed.

"Big talk from a little girl. Is false bravado your specialty?" He reached across the table and captured my hand, holding it with just enough pressure to restrain, while still making it very clear that if I made a wrong move he could easily crush every bone. His other hand reached for my chin, cupping it delicately, and when he spoke, his voice was a dark whisper in my ear. "Don't bother screaming, Zoe. If anyone sees us, they'll think we're engaged in something far more…intimate…then a mere conversation."

"I won't," I said. I actually had no intention of screaming, partly because I knew it wouldn't help, and partly because, stupid or not, I was curious about what he had planned.

"You have a room assigned. Let's take a little stroll to it."

"Okay." I knew it was a stupid move, but I also knew he wasn't going to rape me. It wasn't his style. He had something else in mind.

He kept hold of my hand as we stood up, though he let go long enough to wrap his arm firmly around my waist, instead, and we left the café, taking the lift to the hotel lobby, and then taking the hotel's lift to my room. When the door had closed behind us he pushed me onto the bed, and straddled me, bending his head close to mine.

His breath was hot and reeked of something like motor oil and battery acid, two things I was familiar with thanks to a life that involved boys with speedboats and souped-up fliers. "Seriously, have you been chugging flitter fuel?" I asked him, trying to roll out from under him, and failing.

"Silicone-based lubricant and generic nutritional supplement, if you must know. Plus fish oil. Helps the memory." He laughed, obviously meaning the last part as a joke. He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing mine as he spoke. "Want a taste?"

I shuddered. "Lips that drink Sili-Coat lube are _not_ touching mine. You want me to deliver a message, fine, I'll be your courier, but I don't see why you're fixated on me. I'm just a student who happens to know your brother."

"You know my brother…intimately…."

"Hardly," I snorted.

"'Hardly,'" he mimicked. "Is it? Are you sure?" He cocked his head slightly, then started speaking in my voice. "'Technically, Data, _our_ relationship is intimate. It's just not…it's just not sexual.' Need I go on?"

"How did you know about that conversation?"

"Ah-ah-ah. That's for me to know…and my brother to go crazy trying to figure out. Now do you want to deliver my message, or do you want me to start blowing up sectors of this 'base?"

"Do I _want_ to? No."

"But you will."

"Yeah," I said. "I'll do it. It's not like you're giving me much choice. What's the message?"

"You don't honestly think I'm going to just _tell_ you?"

Actually, I had. "Well…"

But he moved, then, using his right hand to span my throat, holding me immobile, while his left reached for something he'd hidden somewhere in his ill-fitting uniform. It looked a little like a small phaser blaster. "Stay very still," he hissed at me, "and this won't hurt a bit." He forced my mouth open with the muzzle of the not-a-blaster, pressed it against my tongue, and pressed the trigger. Almost immediately, he released my neck and replaced his hand on my shoulder. I still couldn't move, but at least he wasn't almost choking me anymore.

White-hot pain flooded through my mouth, and then receded, leaving me dazed and confused. "Wha' wazzat? Wha' di'you do?" I asked, though I'm not sure the words were discernible with my dry mouth and thick tongue. Something hard and metallic moved in my mouth, and I tasted blood.

"Data-solid in a tongue stud," he said, smirking. "Tell your parents it was an impulsive decision, when they ask you. And make sure my brother helps you remove it. That part's crucial, actually. And when he does, you remind him of what I said before. I had the first taste." He kept me pinned and spoke the next words against my mouth. "And the second."

As he 'favored' me with an acidic kiss, I remembered the conversation I'd had with Data in sickbay, back in February. Summoning all my courage, I raised my arms to grip at him, bracing against him as I lifted my leg and thrust my foot at his crotch with all the strength I could muster.

Thank god for all the hills, and all the walking I'd done in San Francisco that summer. And thank god for the fact that fashion-colored combat boots were a trend I'd actually embraced that year.

I could have lived without ever hearing the android version of a scream, though. I don't know if Lore was merely in shock or if he actually felt pain, but he released me and ran out of the room before I had entirely realized he was gone.

I went to the door and opened it to scan the corridor, but it was empty, so I let it _swoosh_ shut, and locked myself in. Then I went to use the restroom, and to wash my face and hands. That accomplished, I checked out my reflection in the bathroom mirror, sticking out my tongue to see my new…accessory. The stud itself looked kind of cool, even if the reason for its existence was appalling.

I was shaking by then. I knew I should call security, but something told me it would be a bad move. Or maybe I just wasn't thinking straight. I picked up my padd to send a message to Data on the _Enterprise_ , but just as I was doing so, the dual tones of an incoming message and something arriving in the replicator slot distracted me.

The message was from Lore. _"Little Pigeon, I'm sure I don't need to tell you that if you warn anyone the results will be very, very bad. I've had a drink and some after-care instructions delivered to your room. Drink the entire glass, and don't worry…I wouldn't go through the trouble of piercing your tongue just to poison you right after. Oh, and give Data my love. I'm doing all this for him, you know."_

I turned the device off and went to the replicator to retrieve the drink, which turned out to be a mild anesthetic. Drinking it made the throbbing pain go away, and calmed my nerves a little as well. I picked up my padd again, this time just sending a note to Data telling him where to find me, and then I stripped the bedspread off the bed, removed my boots, and curled up on top of the blanket.

The explosion came about ten minutes later, and lit up the area immediately beyond the window – the blinds hadn't been closed. From the bed, I could see bits of shuttlecraft and ships drifting outside the Starbase. A few minutes later, a second explosion rocked the entire base, lights flickered off and then back on, and emergency klaxons activated.

As I listened to the disembodied voice on the PA system telling Starbase personnel to report to duty stations, emergency services personnel to go to specific locations, Starfleet personnel to check in, and everyone else to stay either in their assigned hotel room or transit lounge, I sent a prayer to the universe that no one had been killed or seriously injured, that the _Enterprise_ would arrive sooner rather than later, and that my mother wouldn't hear anything until I was safe.

**(=A=)**

**Stardate 44671.10 (2 September 2367, 22:56 hours, local time)**

I don't remember falling asleep, but I must have, because when I woke up everything was quiet, and the in-room comm-system informed me that nearly twelve hours had gone by. Also? The _Enterprise_ was visible from the window, and I'd never before felt so reassured by the sight of a starship.

My tongue was throbbing again, and I definitely wasn't thinking clearly, because I sat on the bed staring at the great ship outside for several minutes before it occurred to me that I should contact someone.

I looked around for my padd, but before I could activate it, or use the comm-system on the desk, there was a signal at the door, followed by my temporary comm-badge crackling to life. _"Zoe Harris, this is Data. I am outside your assigned quarters. Are you alright?"_

I tapped the badge. "I'm here, and I'm fine," I said, slurring the words a little because my tongue was swollen. "Mostly." The computer didn't respond to my order to unlock the door. "But I can't get the door open," I said.

_"Starbase systems were damaged,"_ he informed me. _"I will open it manually. Stand away from the door, please."_

"Okay." I stepped back from the door, watching as the edge of it bowed, and then marveling as a white-gold hand punched through, and then gripped it, and forced it to slide open. "Data!" I couldn't have stopped myself from running to him if I'd tried. I crashed into him, wrapping him in a fierce hug.

His arms came around me in the way that had become almost familiar, which didn't surprise me. What _did_ startle me was that he let go of me with one arm after a few moments, and stroked my hair. It was the briefest of touches, but it was enough to make me draw back and look up into his eyes – eyes that were at once just like and _nothing like_ his brother's.

Tears threatened but I forced myself to smile, and ask him brightly, "So…did ya miss me?"

Then I fainted.

 


End file.
